


Horizon

by Tinytokki



Series: Horizon Series [1]
Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: ATEEZ Space AU, Alien Planet, Aliens, Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Alternate Universe - Space, Apocalypse, Bear with me..., Captain!Hongjoong, Child Soldiers, Childhood Trauma, Coalition, Colonization, Conspiracy, Future Fic, Gen, Government Agencies, Interplanetary Travel, Lasers, Lots of plot, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Space Opera, Space Stations, Violence, Work In Progress, no beta we die like men, series?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:01:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 50,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22841398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tinytokki/pseuds/Tinytokki
Summary: Every young student on the dying Earth wants one thing; acceptance to the Horizon project. The opportunity to earn a spaceship, a crew, and a voyage into deep space to help find a new home. When brand new Captain Hongjoong and his crew depart for the space station Citadel, they quickly learn that terraforming planets and extraterrestrial settlement are the least of their worries.
Series: Horizon Series [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2140653
Comments: 29
Kudos: 65





	1. Seoulites

It’s just after 2 A.M. and Hongjoong’s rubbing the bleariness out of his eyes. The gaslit pinpricks of light he inspects through his telescope smudge together until he blinks his vision back into focus. Stargazing when you should be sleeping is always a bad idea, although stargazing isn’t really the best word for it. 

This is studying, not stargazing.

Hongjoong shifts the telescope slightly to the right until a very familiar celestial object comes into view. The mid-orbit space station suspended in the blackness shines at him from afar. It’s a man-made celestial object, not a natural one. He doesn’t need to check his notes to know what he’s looking at; that’s the Citadel. Like many others his age, it also happens to be his intended destination. 

Due to what the united governments of the world call “worsening natural disasters” and “increasingly uninhabitable living conditions” an organisation called the IPF (Interplanetary Federation) formed long before Hongjoong was born to begin the long and painstaking process of moving out. According to the voices on the megaphones scattered through the streets of Seoul, the process is coming along nicely.

But to the people still on the ground, apocalyptic anxiety is very real, and cutthroat competition for access to the Citadel is a way of life. Tomorrow is the date of the annual IPF Horizon Project acceptance exam, when all the studying and rivalry will come to fruition. Or today, Hongjoong realises as he blinks at the numbers projecting from his wristband. 

His mother went to bed hours ago and the house is silent save for the occasional beeps of various machinery. As Hongjoong peers at the aft quarters of the distant space station, he registers a smudge on the glass of the window his telescope is pointed at. Sighing and scooting his chair back, he whispers to himself that going outside wouldn’t be too much of a risk and collects his equipment.

The housecleaning android beeps up at him disapprovingly but he shushes it, pulling his cloth air filtration mask up and flashing his wristband in front of the scanner next to the front door. He winces at the chirping sound it makes when it scans his band, but hearing no movement upstairs where his mother is, releases his breath. With a faint whoosh, the door slides open and Hongjoong quickly silences the automated warning from his wristband.

Air sieves through his mask and he steps out onto the grass, lugging his telescope behind. Hongjoong has never breathed in untreated Earth air, but his grandmother has. He asked her about it once when there was a dust storm outside and she recalled its dirtlike musk. She always talked about how the soil smelled after it rained, but when it rains now all Hongjoong smells is the inside of his mask, just like always. Fresh fruit, crisp pine, salty ocean, fetid livestock… all descriptions and pictures. More like a fantasy.

Hongjoong only knows what things smell like inside his metal box of a house, so he trusts his eyes and his ears instead. Once the legs of the telescope are firmly planted in the ground, he resumes his work. He’s supposed to be studying the stars for the navigational section but his gaze keeps wandering to the station’s hangars, all suspended below the floating utopia. Once he gets to the Citadel, that’s where he’ll be. Being accepted into the Horizon Project has been his goal since he was young, and piloting a ship of his own has been his dream for even longer. His father always said, “Diplomats and gunners won’t be necessary once we make peace with all the alien nations in the galaxy. But pilots will be important and inspiring forever.”

Important and inspiring is enough, but being able to support his family… that’s a different matter. That is what keeps Hongjoong’s eyes open at 2:16 A.M.

The distinct feeling of moisture gathering in the air prompts Hongjoong to pull his face away from the telescope for a moment and look at the horizon. All the other houses on the quintessential suburban street are still quiet, but clouds are gathering with alarming speed behind them and Hongjoong frowns in confusion.

“Is it supposed to rain tomorrow…?”

As he goes to check his wristband, he sees a warning that must have been flashing for some time: ICE STORM APPROACHING

Hongjoong’s eyes blow wide and he scrambles to pack up his equipment. Ice storms roar in at random times even in the summer, always dangerous and unexpected, and his wristband would have warned him if only he hadn’t silenced it.

There’s no time to beat himself up for it, however, and the first frozen chunks are already falling from the sky by the time he waves his wristband in front of the outdoor console for the house to let him in. A few icicles follow him in before the door slides back shut and he lets his mask down, the familiar clanging of hailstones on the roof beginning to sound. The metal bunker style house that was built for such a purpose holds up as it has many times before in all sorts of extreme weather events.

Blizzards at the end of summer, floods in desert areas, dust storms on mountains-- all part of the conditions threatening humanity, along with the increasingly poisonous air.

If Hongjoong’s mother hasn’t awoken during his clumsy attempts to get outside, she’s certainly awake now. Sure enough, he’s just packed away the telescope and spread his books on the dining table when she pads downstairs, a pout stuck to her face and her robe wrapped tightly around her.

“Did I hear the door opening just now?”

She yawns around the question and pulls up a chair, eyeing the notes that seem to have all of Hongjoong’s attention. He shrugs in response, not meeting her gaze until she places a hand on his.

“Your mask is still on.”

He sighs and pulls the mask off completely from where it rests at his neck, flinging it onto the table. “The sky was clear a minute ago, I just wanted to take a good look at it..”

His mother knows what he’s referring to and her eyes flit over to the window before returning to him, a hint of forgiveness already below the scolding. “You know the rules, Hongjoong. The authorities won’t make an exam day exception if they find you out there.”

_ I’m worried about you _ , is what she means. Hongjoong nods and lowers his head in apology. He doesn’t like worrying his mother, even if it is for a good cause. Nothing else needs to be said, so she removes her hand and shuffles into the kitchen to make some midnight snack. 

Hongjoong doesn’t know how long he spends scanning and rescanning pages, running his hands through his hair and willing the sun to stay where it is just a bit longer. His mother grabs his attention again with a hand on his arm and pushes a bowl of jogaetang at him.

“Clams?” His brow furrows in confusion and he tries to press the bowl back. “These are rationed, I thought you were saving them for your birthday…”

“It’s your big day, this is for you.” His mother sends it back and sits him down. She has that look in her eyes- the look that means no arguments.

“What about you?” He fights back weakly, dipping the spoon in the soup and swirling it around, not eating until he has an answer. 

“I saved the rest of the clams for my birthday. By then, I’ll be here eating them by myself and hoping my son is well fed on that massive metal can up there.”

Unexpectedly, Hongjoong’s eyes grow moist. She has such faith in him, faith that he can only accept the weight of once he’s in the program. It’s finally his year to take the exam and all he can do is try his best and hope it’s enough.

It has to be enough. 

Hongjoong can’t come back home tomorrow and shake his head when she asks him the question she’s been waiting his whole life to ask him. 

He has to pass the exam.

Part of him recoils at the thought of her eating alone on her birthday but he quells it. They’ll be reunited on the Citadel when he has status and money and free time. Hopefully the Earth stays alive until then.

Against his volition, a tear falls into the soup. Hurriedly, Hongjoong blinks away any others and takes a bite. His mother settles across the table to watch him eat. They both know she’s not leaving until it’s gone.

The first grey streaks of dawn are permeating the metal bunker when Hongjoong hands over his empty bowl. “Off to bed now,” his mother orders, already clearing away the textbooks. “No arguments.”

“But, I still haven’t finished all the orbital mechanics practice questions-” He tries to argue anyway. “ _ No _ arguments,” she swats away his hand as it reaches for a book. “You know everything you need to. You’ve known it for a long time.”

Sobering at this, Hongjoong lets her pull him into a hug. He breathes her in, maybe for the last time. 

“I’ll be thinking about you all day,” she whispers. “You’ll make it, I know you will.” All he can muster in return is a muffled “I love you” and he’s sent off to bed. For once the sounds of his little bed pod are comforting and nostalgic.

Everything’s going to change when he wakes, he knows, for better or for worse.

___

Yeosang is awake even before he needs to be, thanks to the sounds of the crashing waves. He takes it in, knowing it’s his last chance to enjoy it, but a knock on his door from the butler android interrupts his peaceful moment, telling him it’s time. Housekeeping bots have thoroughly cleaned the summer house and deactivated themselves when the air tram pulls up outside the mansion. The Kang family is present, waiting for it.

Silently, Yeosang helps his father load the luggage and sends one last forlorn glance towards the shoreline below. So ends the last summer of his childhood. The flying bullet tram sounds a warning announcement to hurry the family inside before it takes off, zooming through the air.

Inside their luxuriously padded car, the three of them remove their masks and settle in for the ride back to Seoul. Yeosang’s father immediately pulls up some boring television broadcast on his wristband, and Yeosang suppresses a groan. The last thing he wants is to have to entertain his mother.

Mrs. Kang is an exceptionally cranky woman, especially when she’s been woken as early as she has for the return trip. Yeosang finds himself wishing he hadn’t packed up his textbooks. 

The only comfort he has while his mother complains that first class isn’t “classy enough” is that this should be the last time he has to put up with her. Part of him regrets leaving his father to fend for himself, but then he supposes he had been doing that before Yeosang was born. 

Yeosang squeezes his eyes shut and tries to get into a comfortable sleeping position. Traveling back from their summer home the day of the exam doesn’t really seem like the healthiest option, but Yeosang’s mother had wanted as much time away in the sweeping vistas and country air as possible. Not that the air was any more breathable out here.

What Yeosang’s mother says goes, regardless of what Yeosang has to say about it. And Yeosang’s father never has anything to say about it anyway, so he sits out and twiddles his thumbs while his wife and son go head to head. All of that ends today, Yeosang reassures himself. 

The Horizon Project is an escape from Planet Earth for just about everyone who applies to it, but for Yeosang it’s an escape for more reasons than one.

His parents are among the richest and most successful in the entire country, and the public eye is very much planted at their doorstep waiting for Yeosang to follow in their footsteps. Of course, that means entering in the Horizon Project and beyond that, succeeding in his field and surpassing anyone who might challenge him.

It’s not really his decision to make, but it’s one he has become more and more invested in this past summer as he studied by the sea. This is a chance to prove that he really can carry on the family name. A chance to prove his worth as the Kang heir. And a chance to put some distance between himself and his headache-inducing mother.

Her complaining voice drowns out and all that remains is the gentle swaying of the tram.

___

Wooyoung awakes to the rhythmic beeping of some device echoing through the large empty house he’s taken up residence in. He’s not sure if the sound is indicative of some break-in or if it’s a normal function of the many service droids. See, it’s not his house.

A glance out the tinted window reveals the muted sunrise and a few tired blinks at it reveal an approaching tram. Wooyoung starts and flies out of the bed he was occupying-- Yeosang’s bed-- throwing the covers back into place and tidying the room in a blur of panic. Yeosang isn’t supposed to be returning until next week and, according to Wooyoung’s wristband, that should still be three days from now. 

The halting of the beeping indicates that the tram has stopped outside and as Wooyoung throws his belongings back into his sack he spots the Kang family unloading their luggage. With a sharp intake of breath, he tiptoes out of the bedroom and into the large hallway. 

Everything about the Kang mansion is as sleek and modern as one of the richest families in Korea could ask for, and that was clearly what they had done. Yeosang has an entire room dedicated to being a workshop for his drones, one that Wooyoung took a tour of earlier in the day.

Wooyoung has only visited once or twice when the Kangs were actually at home, usually in the dead of night or when Mrs. Kang was at the spa or on a shopping spree. She’s a very particular woman, and a very controlling parent. To avoid the scrutiny that comes with being associated with her “pure, impressionable” Yeosang as anything more than a servant, Yeosang and Wooyoung decided long ago to make sure the two never meet each other.

Which is why Wooyoung makes a beeline for the back door before she sees him.

A complete whirlwind, he tears through the back rooms looking for his shoes and trying to balance the back on his back. He registers the telltale whoosh of the front door sliding open just as he lays eyes on his worn and beaten shoes, kicked underneath the shoe rack by the door.

A figure enters his peripheral vision and he hits the floor, using a counter to shield him as he inches toward his shoes and shoves his feet into them.

“Wooyoung?”

A shoelace catches and his feet fly out from underneath him, bringing him to the ground in a large clash.

Hands are on him, helping him up, and not until he realises it’s Yeosang does he stop flailing his arms.

“What’s going on back there?” 

Yeosang’s mother, her sharp tone unmistakable. It makes Wooyoung wince and reminds him of a time he hid under Yeosang’s bed and listened to her reprimand her son for being up so late, when really he was just comforting Wooyoung. Trying to help him figure out what to do when his father had spent all their money on liquor and now he couldn’t afford practice tests.

That was the night they’d decided the Horizon Project was overrated, and neither of them were taking the exam.

“It’s just me, I tripped over my- my shoelace,” Yeosang looks at Wooyoung’s shoelaces, giving him a tired smile and helping him tie them and then standing and offering his mother a shrug while she squints at him from the neighbouring room.

Wooyoung remains crouching behind the counter until she turns his back and Yeosang whisks him away out the back door and up to the rooftop once their masks are hurriedly secured, where both can finally relax and have a good laugh.

“How long have you been here?” Yeosang exclaims before Wooyoung can get a word in.

“Um… two nights?”

Yeosang’s eyes widen to dinner plates. “Two nights? Was it that bad at home? Your father’s going to kill you, Wooyoung.” He shakes his head disapprovingly which prompts a good-natured shove from Wooyoung.

“Yeah, if he’s sober enough to kill me. Probably didn’t even notice I was gone.” He plops down onto the tiles and runs his hands through his hair, trying to make it at least somewhat presentable before his trek back home. Yeosang snorts at this.

“How did you even get in without the guard android skewering you?” Wooyoung smirks at the question, more than a little proud of himself.

“I rewired your security system last month. Your access port is weakly guarded and I’ve been hanging out here the whole second half of the summer. Don’t worry, I didn’t break anything.”

Yeosang scoffs in shock. “Well, you have to put it back to normal before you go! I don’t know how to do anything with wires. No wonder the door didn’t beep at us when we snuck out the back…”

“What are you doing back? I thought I had another few days at least, by myself in this ridiculously massive house…” Wooyoung shrugs off his bag and waits for Yeosang to sit next to him, smile slowly fading.

“We had to be in Seoul in time for today,” he quietly admits. Wooyoung’s smile wanes as well.

“What’s today?”

After a moment, it hits him.

The acceptance exam for the Horizon Project. It’s all anyone’s been talking about online and around the city, even though Wooyoung does everything in his power to steer clear of the subject.

“No, but- but you’re not taking the exam Yeosang, remember?”

Yeosang doesn’t respond.

“Yeosang,” Wooyoung sits up and leans closer. “We promised we were going to stick together! You- you can’t join the Horizon Project and leave me here, I…”

“Stop, Wooyoung,” Yeosang gives him a tired glance, as if this is a conversation he’s run in his head multiple times and Wooyoung has just gone off-script. “It’s too late for that. It’s already done, I’m registered and I’m taking it. No use being upset.”

“No use?! Yeosang, don’t you think I have a _right_ to be upset? When were you planning on telling me this, that you went ahead without me and prepared for the exam?”

“I don’t know,” Yeosang blushes and avoids his gaze, fiddling with his mask. “Mother wanted to stay at the summer estate as long as possible, I figured I’d send a message or something, but you know she always checks my wristband to see who I’m talking to-”

“What changed, Yeosang? Why did you suddenly decide to go along with what everyone always tells you to do? What happened to ‘if one of us can’t get in, neither of us can’? That’s not the Yeosang I made a promise with.” Wooyoung’s anger shines in his eyes but softens into tears as Yeosang finally crumples next to him.

“I’m so sick of being here. I’m so sick of her telling me what to do all the time.” There’s no need to name the “her” in question. “I just want to show her that she’s wrong about me. I’m not useless and fragile, I can pass that exam and I can join the Project and get to the Citadel. And I’m sorry that you can’t come along with me. I really mean that, Wooyoung.”

Wooyoung shakes his head through the tears clouding his vision. It’s just not fair. Why should he have to stay home and smile for the cameras and put up with his drunk father when Yeosang gets to pursue the ticket out of here? The one rocket ship off this stupid planet with its stupid expectations?

He gets to his feet and throws on his bag. “You have a few hours to change your mind.”

_Don’t make me change mine_ , he adds silently and climbs off the roof.

___

He should have known someone was watching. From the two men that got off the tram after him to the hairs that were standing up on the back of his neck the entire time. 

But he hadn’t acted fast enough, and that’s why he’s waking up tied to a chair. Kidnapped.

“Is this _rope?_ ” he mumbles before he’s even lifted his head. “That’s a little… old school.”

Someone he can’t see smacks him across the back of the head. “Shut up.” Stars are swimming in his vision for a moment, and when they clear he finally takes a look around.

A broad man in a grey suit is frowning down at him, leaning against a repurposed conference table that’s decorated with weapons.

Some of them look like the government-issued blasters the police force uses, others significantly more antiquated ( _are those actual bullets?_ ) and some he’s never seen in his life, on television or elsewhere.

“What do you want with me?”

His voice is a little hoarse from hours of silence. Come to think of it, he has no idea how long he was out for. Did he miss school? Did he miss the acceptance exam? 

The thought of missing the exam is somehow more terrifying than the actual kidnapping situation he’s in right now.

“You did something you weren’t supposed to,” the man answers at length, folding his arms over his chest.

The instinct to fire back a witty remark is quelled as he thinks back to his emergency training. No one ever taught him what to do if he was kidnapped, but staying quiet and waiting for this mysterious man to explain himself is probably the best course of action. “...Okay.”

“There are consequences for meddling in things, you know,” the man is angry now, pushing off the table and coming closer to the chair.

He rubs his bound wrists together, as if that might help him escape somehow. “Consequences?”

“Deadly consequences.”

He pales and his eyes flit back over to the table of weapons. Oh, right. That made sense now. They’re going to kill him. He opens his mouth to claim they’ve got the wrong person, but he finds it’s gone dry. They haven’t got the wrong person, and he should have seen this coming.

“So here’s what’s going to happen,” the man says, circling around to walk behind him. “You’re going to tell us where you hid the documents, and if you lie to us…”

There’s no need to finish the sentence. Light from the nondescript bulb hanging catches a pistol. He gulps and considers his options.

“There’s no way you can find it,” he steadies his voice and shifts in his seat, trying to make eye contact with his captor. “I’m more of an asset to you alive, and you know it.”

He knows by now who these people are, and he looks into the man’s eyes with conviction in what he claims. They _need_ him.

“You seem to think you’re the one in position to make a bargain,” the man grunts and returns to lean on the table. But he doesn’t deny it. He is in a position to bargain, and that’s his cue to do so.

“ _You_ don’t want the documents getting out, and _I_ want to get into the Horizon Project. Have I got that right?”

It’s a little bit presumptuous to push for the Project, but if he really is missing the exam, it’s a risk he’s willing to take. The man narrows his eyes.

“Send me to the Citadel and I’ll make sure they never see the light of day. You have my word.”

He bites the inside of his lip and waits for an answer. The man’s hand inches towards a blade, but his eyes remained fixed on his captive. 

“Or you can kill me,” he nods towards the knife. “And I promise you, you’ll never know where your precious documents are. Is that a liability you’re willing to pay?”

The silence is nerve racking. Neither party blinks in a battle of wills until the man finally clasps his hands in front of him. 

“Very well. We’ll get you off this planet as soon as possible. What position were you studying for?”

The urge to heave a sigh of relief is overwhelming but he resists and answers calmly, “Navigation.”

The man taps a few times on his wristband until a holographic display signals an outgoing phone call.

Really? One phone call and this guy can arrange the entire future of someone’s life?

“I have one subject for immediate acceptance into the Project,” the man goes about his business as if no one else is even there. There’s a brief conversation and a faint voice on the other end asks for an authorization code. A moment later they’re asking for the name of the newest Navigator.

The man’s eyes dart over to him and back and he finally responds.

“Park Seonghwa.”

___

Hongjoong opens his eyes to the morning alarm on his wristband that has been blinking for fifteen minutes now. He gasps and flies out of bed, cursing his stupidity for the second time at muting his wristband alerts last night. 

His mother knocks at the door just as he’s throwing a semi-professional looking shirt on and asks if he’s almost ready to go.

As an answer, he slides the door open and asks, “How do I look?”

She winces, honest at least, and sighs, “Your hair…”

Hongjoong whips back around for his comb and tries to pat it down a few times while she excuses herself to pack some food for him. Being in a rush this morning is certainly not helping him achieve peace of mind before the most important test he will ever take.

There’s no time now to think about what might come next. There’s only the exam. Every fibre of his being must focus on the exam.

He helps his mother load his bag with food and emergency supplies. She always says he isn’t ready for the day if he isn’t ready for everything that might happen in it.

Then the tram is pulling up outside the house and Hongjoong’s fingers are flying as he ties his shoes. 

His mother puts his backpack on for him. “I was going to give you something,” she sighs.

“Mail it to me in space,” Hongjoong throws the line over his shoulder like he always does, but then pauses. It actually might happen this time. 

Sensing his hesitation, his mother pulls him to his feet and hugs him tightly. 

“I love you.”

“I love you, too. And I’ll do my best, I promise.”

All too soon, she’s releasing him out the door where he sprints to catch the tram.

Hongjoong takes his last look of their little suburban house and his mother waving to him through the tinted window and steps onto the tram. 

He lets out a low breath and settles into a seat where he can see the city fly by. Other students are buried in their books, cramming last minute in the hopes that the information will be fresh come time for the exam.

There isn’t a cloud in sight to indicate the storm of the previous night, and Hongjoong gazes at the view, fascinated by the mood swings of the sky.

Mid-morning sunlight gleams off the towering skyscrapers and clear cut glass lines of downtown Seoul. The cityscape is imposing but familiar in its magnitude, but as attractive as it looks, the holographic images of the Citadel look better.

The ride is short before the tram pulls up outside the tallest building in the city. IPF headquarters.

All the students getting off the tram with him have seen it before on a school field trip, but Hongjoong has been inside several times to see the spacecraft. Every opportunity he had, he took.

The state-of-the-art building is a front for the entire complex of laboratories and facilities belonging to the IPF, a complex which comprises the entire heart of Seoul, and is connected to every other part of it in some way.

Indirectly, the IPF owns everything. Practically the whole world.

The students are guided through the lobby and into their exam rooms. Everyone is silent with anticipation and finds their seats as they’re instructed.

Hongjoong arranges everything on his desk just like he’s been taught to and directs his attention to the front screen which lights up with a voice and a message.

“Hello, students. For your entire lives you have persisted despite difficult conditions. But humanity has a hope now. There is a safe place, the Citadel, but it’s not enough for everyone. We need to expand so the rest of mankind has somewhere to go. So we can get everyone off the Earth and to their new homes on our sister planets.”

All the practice has come down to this. One chance for it to pay off. One chance to show them what he can do.

“You, student, are the future. And only you can bring the future closer by finding those sister planets. In a few moments, your skills will be tested so we can determine which of you will pioneer this new age of development. Those of us working here at the IPF and on the Citadel wish you the best of luck.” 

Hongjoong takes a deep breath.

“Only a select few have what it takes to join the Horizon Project. So for those of you who do, will you join us?”

  
  
  
  



	2. The Exam

“Is the question  _ usually  _ on the exam? About the auxiliary engine failure?”

“I don’t know, San,” the voice sighs through his earpiece, a little muffled from how far away it is. “It’s not like I took it more than once.”

“But you took the Specialist Proficiency test,” San points out, juggling the various sheets of paper sliding out of his notebook. “That counts, doesn’t it?”

“I took the Engineer’s Specialist Proficiency test, so of course it was on there. You’ll need to know how to answer it at some point, assuming you get into the Project.” There are some shuffling sounds on the other end before it quiets. “If you’re asking me whether the question will be on the  _ acceptance  _ exam, I really have no idea. Anything else you wanted to ask me?”

“No, Haneul, that’s everything.” San smiles and looks out the tram window, scanning the sky for the shining satellite he knows his sister is on, even as she speaks to him over a comm call. “How are things on the Citadel?” 

“Ah, right,” she perks up on the other end and the sound of a door sliding shut comes through the line. She must have just gotten back to her room. “About that…”

“What is it?” San sits up straighter in his seat and holds his breath. Has something happened? Is Haneul in trouble?

“No, no, everything’s great, don’t worry,” she rushes to console him, cutting him off before he travels down that path. “I’ve just been reassigned, that’s all.”

“Reassigned?” He asks after ruminating for a second. “Not… not fired?”

“Not fired,” she concedes. “Not promoted either. Just reassigned. It’s normal in the IPF. Eventually we’re supposed to settle down with a job at the Citadel and leave the exploration to the new kids-- you guys!”

San blushes and chuckles into the earpiece. Exploration of space. That’s assuming he gets in, of course. “What exactly is your new job then?”

“Practically the same,” she shrugs, forgetting that he can’t see her. “I’m still an engineer, just a domestic officer now. I fix other people’s spacecraft and other issues on the Citadel. If you follow in my footsteps, that’ll be you one day.”

San’s laugh softens into a smile. The living in the Citadel part is exciting, but to him the thrill of exploring new worlds is the real selling point of the Horizon Project. 

Which brings him back to the notes crowding his booth on the tram. All the intricate concepts and technical instructions he’s struggled with are scrawled across page after page in hurried chicken scratch. San didn’t think it was possible to cram for a test you’ve spent your entire life studying for, but here he is in a state of panic because he can finally see the glittering skyscrapers of Seoul coming into view up ahead, and suddenly he’s realising that this is actually happening. Regardless of how well he scores, his entire life is about to change. Hopefully for the better.

“Hey, what are you thinking about?” Haneul’s voice interrupts his thoughts. “You’ve been quiet for too long.”

“What if…” San starts off in a whisper. “What if I get rejected? What is everyone back home going to think--”  
“San, we’ve been over this. You’ll be fine. No one’s going to stop loving you just because you don’t pass a stupid test.”

“It’s not a stupid test, though!” San protests, and then lowers his voice abashedly when the old woman across the aisle shushes him. “The entire village has their expectations on me. Even though  _ everyone  _ knows the chances of two siblings both getting into the Project are slim to none.”

“Sannie, there are things other than the Project that are worthwhile, you know. And we’re already proud of you-  _ I’m _ already proud of you. Don’t feel like you absolutely have to be just like me at all costs. You should try being you.”

San takes a shaky breath. That’s easy for her to say. She’s already up there on the Citadel, a respected and acclaimed officer and member of the Horizon Project. She’s got the entire town throwing parties in her honor. She’s got their parents bragging to anyone in a ten mile radius that their daughter is  _ the  _ Choi Haneul- the beautiful, amazing, talented one who’s going to help find a new world for humanity. 

“What if I do get in...” San fidgets with the suit jacket he’s wearing and pauses before continuing. “...and my crew members don’t like me?”

“Impossible,” Haneul chuckles. “There’s nobody who doesn’t like you, Sannie. And if there is, they’re just jealous of you. You work harder than anyone else, and you’re going to do great. I’m sure of it.”

An automated voice comes over the speakers and announces that they’ll be arriving shortly at Seoul Station.

“Well, that’s your cue,” Haneul says softly, having heard the PA through the call. “I’ll expect another call in a few hours then.” San rolls his eyes at this. It’s true, though, he has to admit. There’s no way he  _ isn’t  _ going to call her after the exam to discuss all the questions in detail. 

“Pray for me,” he sighs, gathering his things as the tram pulls to a stop. “I’m not even sure if I can make it to the exam without getting lost. This place looks like a maze.” San peers out the window and into the sleek but bustling station they’ve just pulled into.

“You’ll be fine. Just don’t forget your wristband. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

He clutches the band close and nods even though she can’t see him. “Okay. Talk later, bye.”

The call cuts off and his earpiece chimes to notify him, but he’s busy shoving the papers into his bag and heading for the exit. 

The station is bursting with energy, the buzzing of conversations and flashing signs demanding San’s attention the moment he sets foot on the expansive platform. This is easily the biggest building San’s ever been in, and he has to force himself to keep moving or he’ll get caught and trampled in the crowd of commuters following him off the tram. He clutches his bag close and searches the colourful displays for any sign that might help him navigate. 

Luckily, a console stands just a few feet away from the tracks he just stepped away from. Breathing a sigh of relief now that he has somewhere to stand where it at least looks like he knows what he’s doing, he scurries over.

The automated voice instructs him to place his wristband next to the side of the machine as soon as he approaches. Easy enough. He obeys and watches, fascinated, as the map displayed on the console transfers itself into holographic form on his wristband. Someone standing behind him clears their throat and shakes San out of it.

He quits ogling the thing and steps out of the way for the next person to use the console. The map is labelled clearly enough and San finds the place he was looking for after searching for only a couple of seconds. The library.

He taps the holographic display and watches with awe as a green line draws itself from his current location to the public library. “Green line,” he realises out loud before scanning the busy station for a green tram.

As luck would have it, a bright green tram has just pulled in. He quickly boards it and finds a window seat. Only about five minutes in Seoul and already San’s discovering how different it is.

Supposedly, his wristband has always been able to do all these exciting tasks, but he just never needed to use it for such functions. The tram zooms out of the station and through the skyscrapers of the city, flying past each building with practiced and automated ease. The very idea of a tram existing to take him anywhere he liked was luxury and sophistication exemplified. 

He drinks in the view out his window, looming structures towering on all sides, reaching so high that their tops are obscured by low hanging clouds. The true expansive nature of the transportation system becomes evident to San as he catches sight of other wire tracks strewn between skyscrapers. There really is no going outside this deep downtown. And clearly there is no need to.

Far below him there is probably pavement, maybe patches of grass here and there, but sidewalks aren’t necessary here in the city. The tram tracks are the sidewalks of the sky. He lets the smooth glide of the tram distract him until a robotic voice lists his stop. The public library.

If there’s any place for him to buckle down and review everything one last time, that will be it. He grabs his bag close again and steps off and into the tunnel.

The tram had curved downward and dropped him off in a glass tunnel that apparently led to his destination. A group of girls gets off with him and heads toward the main building, zig-zagging around him and paying his loitering no mind. He follows them at a distance.

If he thought the main station was big, the library is somehow even bigger. Shelves rise up all around him so high that he has to crane his neck to see the steeple-like tops. How anyone was supposed to get books that were that high up is a mystery to San, until a small droid flies past him and up into the book canopy to fetch a tome for one of the girls who walked in with him.

San huffs and scans the ground floor for somewhere comfortable to sit. Even just a corner where he can focus on his work and not be overwhelmed by the major distraction of librarian drones zipping around.

There’s a row of plush seats on one end of the room, next to a long table. San gladly sits and situates himself, unpacking his bag. He didn’t bring much with him. Nearly everything he might need for the exam can be found on his wristband- identification, currency, communication, now a map for navigation too. His study materials are the only other thing he needs with him.

Crinkled papers and notebooks stuffed full of diagrams, charts, and notecards tumble out and onto the table. The boy sitting across from him gives him a pointed look and scooches a little bit farther away. San chuckles nervously and tries to get his mess in order. 

“Propulsion, astrodynamics, electrotechnology… where’s auxiliary engine failure?”

San freezes in his flipping and backtracks through the notebook. “I was just looking at it, wasn’t I?” The boy on the other side of the table clears his throat loudly. San cringes and lowers his mumblings to a mere whisper as his rifling through papers becomes more frantic. He was just looking at it, when he was talking to Haneul on the tram… _ on the tram! _

San suddenly shoots to his feet with a gasp. He left his notes on auxiliary engine failure protocol on the tram. With a huff, the boy across from him packs up his stuff and moves elsewhere. But San isn’t paying attention.

There’s a ringing in his head, and the lights have grown fuzzy. His breath comes in and out in short gasps. He left his notes on the tram, he left his notes… He  _ needs  _ those notes. Auxiliary engine failure is, like, the  _ only  _ problem he’s not sure he knows how to fix.

“What am I going to do, what am I going to do-”

He’s a few seconds away from tears and everything’s spinning, his stomach twisting uncomfortably before lurching and suddenly he needs to get to a bathroom. Immediately.

He bolts from his spot towards the sign lit up above his destination and throws himself into a stall, emptying the contents of his stomach before sinking to the floor, a sobbing mess.

San’s fingers tangle in his hair as he tries to focus on anything but the looming exam and the missing pages. His smiling parents. His sister’s encouraging voice.

But all he can see in front of him is the shining stall, fluorescent lights, and a twinkling toilet probably worth more than he is. San flushes it and tries to dry his tears to no avail. Because this city is sparkling and lustrous and everything San isn’t. And how is he supposed to be at home here when every new oddity of flashing tech is just another reminder that he doesn’t belong?

It’s been under an hour and San already wants to go home. 

But he came here to do something very important, so he gets up, splashes some water onto his face, and resolves to ace this acceptance test. 

___

Jongho forces himself to focus on washing his hands.

He’s already been majorly distracted by some kid in a suit barrelling into the bathroom, upchucking into the toilet neighboring the stall he was in, and then having a full on breakdown on the floor.

Just when he’d thought he could quietly sneak away and back to the books he had been scouring, the boy burst out of the stall and joined him at the sink.

Jongho’s eyes slide over to the sniffling boy anxiously rubbing water into his cheeks and then back over to his own sink, embarrassed for the stranger. He’s clearly not from Seoul.

“Here for the exam?” He asks hesitantly, waving his hands under the dryer. The boy lifts his head, confused at being addressed by this stranger. When Jongho’s gaze persists, he realises the question is indeed for him and nods quickly.

“I want to be an engineer for the Horizon Project.”

His accent is strong, and he looks as if he’s about to go on talking, but his mouth clicks shut in hesitation. “You’re probably here to study for the exam too,” he says under his breath.

“No, not really,” Jongho admits, shaking his hands to get rid of any excess water. The stranger seems surprised. He joins him at the dryers and bites his lip as if stopping himself from saying something. Jongho’s ready to leave when the boy suddenly bursts out, “Can I sit with you?”

Jongho stops with his hand on the door and turns back to face him as he prattles on. “It’s just... I’ve never been here before, and I don’t know anyone and I’d really rather not study alone but I know the test is in a few hours so if you say no, I get it, it’s really fine, everyone needs to be alone sometimes, it’s just this is really stressful for me and-”

“Fine.”

Anything to shut him up, honestly.

The boy beams at him and follows him to his table, grabbing his own bag and stack of study materials from his original seat.

Jongho couldn’t care less, but it really seems like this guy has no idea what he’s doing. There was something endearing about it, being needed to help someone, even if it was just his silent and stoic company. He’s not really sure why he agreed, given the nature of his research, but he supposes it couldn’t hurt things. 

He wasn’t lying when he said he didn’t come here to study. Jongho may be the only teen in the entire world who thinks this way, but he doesn’t care whether he gets in the Horizon Project or not. Even if he did have a good chance, he is much more interested in the inner workings and history of the IPF than becoming a part of their current operations. 

Jongho lets the boy sitting with him mumble about supersynchronous orbit and propellant mass fraction while he dives into the records of Horizon exploration teams. It’s no simple curiosity that drives him to research the program itself, but a personal reason. 

His grandmother was on one of those teams. And no one has heard from her in years. 

According to the article he now has open, people have died before on Horizon teams. Problems with takeoff and docking are extremely rare nowadays, unlike in the astronaut age, but interplanetary travel, alien relations, and hostile planet conditions are all very real issues that claim lives in the present day. It’s the risks involved that make the Horizon Project so prestigious and honored, Jongho muses. 

Shooting for the stars was never an option for him. Coming from the poorest, most run-down part of the city, his parents always struggled to find work. And that meant Jongho, along with his siblings, had to drop out of school and work with them. Of course the education that would give the financially unstable a chance at making something of themselves is one they can’t afford. 

He reminds himself that he much prefers working to studying endlessly with all those stuck up rich kids, but there’s always a part of him that wonders what position he would fill if he somehow did pass the test. 

Even the nervous country boy across from him is sure to do better. He’s at least suited up to make a good impression. Jongho has on his nicest jacket and the pair of pants that  _ isn’t  _ stained. He swallows down his jealousy and returns to his reading.

There’s a picture of a funeral being held on the Citadel on the next page. Jongho looks at it for a while before moving on. If his grandmother had simply been assassinated in conference with an alien diplomat, there would’ve been a funeral for her, too. But there was nothing. No word from her, and no answers from the IPF.

Jongho sighs and closes the book. Stranger Guy is still engrossed in reviewing his escape velocity practice questions but the hour draws nearer. His stomach grumbles and he ignores it. He can think about eating after he’s gone to the exam.

To Jongho, it doesn’t matter whether he passes or fails. It  _ really _ doesn’t, he’s convinced himself. He just needs access to the IPF- more importantly, access to their camera feed log. When he stands to leave, the stranger stands with him, confused. He silently trails behind as Jongho gives his books to the nearest librarian bot and heads back to the glass tunnel. Eventually the kid realises where they’re headed, checking the time on his wristband.

“So you  _ are  _ taking the exam,” he nudges. “You’re headed to IPF headquarters, aren’t you?”

Jongho nods and boards the tram when it pulls up. As expected, the country boy latches on, this time introducing himself as they sit down. “I’m San by the way. Choi San.”

Jongho gives him a long look before exhaling. There’s no use keeping his identity a secret. This kid couldn’t do a thing to hurt him.

“My name’s Jongho.”

___ 

“I’m suddenly not so sure about this,” Mingi whines, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet.

“What do you mean, you’re not sure?” Yunho teases him, looking past his hyperactive friend at the tram tracks and waiting for their ride to appear. “It was  _ your _ idea.”

“My mother’s going to kill me when she finds out, though,” Mingi mumbles and checks his wristband for the time. The tram isn’t late, is it? Trams are never late.

“ _ Your _ mother? My mother would make me apologize to the headmaster in person if  _ she  _ found out,” Yunho shoots back, clearly not as worried about their little preemptive jaunt downtown. The tram grows closer and they watch it through the glass as it slides in.

Their wave of the exam is scheduled later in the day, which means they don’t get a free pass to skip school. The way Yunho sees it, if they pass this exam they won’t ever have to go back to school again anyway.

It’s mostly for Mingi’s benefit that they snuck out of AI programming class to get to IPF headquarters early. Yunho has been gunning for a combat role long enough that his skills are as honed as they can be for an acceptance exam. If he doesn’t pass the written portions with flying colours, it won’t really matter. Not as long as he can outshoot everyone else.

Mingi, on the other hand, is striving for the xenologist position. Which means the moment the tram arrives, he’s picking a window seat so that he can diplomatize with his reflection- or whatever it is he’s doing.

Yunho catches murmured phrases in some alien language and shakes his head fondly. He doesn’t have the first idea what Mingi’s discussing with himself, but he’s never met someone more passionate about alien relations. He doesn’t really have anything to worry about.

Their school isn’t far from IPF and the city centre. The tram glides straight into the main plaza, a stadium sized glass dome decked out with plant life, service bots, waiting areas, transportation to the other publicly accessible buildings in the complex, and all the most impressive new tech.

Yunho and Mingi find a place to sit and relax, ordering some junk food from the nearest kiosk. They love their parents dearly, but that doesn’t mean they’re above breaking the rules every once in a while, especially if the day happens to be exam day and the purpose is cramming a few hours ahead of time.

“When was the last time you had a hotdog, huh?” Yunho asks with a laugh as Mingi opens his mouth to be fed, not even looking up from the notes displayed on his wristband. “Probably the last time I came here,” Mingi admits around his bite of food. Yunho enjoys his own hotdog and thinks back to their last IPF field trip. “It must have been, what, middle school?”

“That sounds about right,” Mingi hums distractedly. “What do you think they do if you completely flunk the simulations but your written scores are good?”

“Mingi, your simulations will be fine,” Yunho sighs, sitting back. He’s helped Mingi improve his aim shooting cans off the fence that separates their houses. He knows if Mingi’s nerves don’t get in the way, he’s a pretty good shot. “Besides, the written portion is probably weighted more. They can teach you combat protocol  _ after  _ they accept you.”

In truth, two tests are never the same. The students have to be prepared for everything they might be asked to do and year in and year out those tasks are different. It’s a developing field. A changing art. 

“Did you ever finish those orbital mechanics questions?” Mingi finally looks up and addresses his friend. Yunho blushes under the scrutiny. Orbital mechanics usually fall under the pilot’s specifications, or the engineer’s. Everyone dreads the orbital mechanics questions, with how easily something like that can go wrong in space. As such, he didn’t spend much time on it. 

As an answer, he pulls up his own holoscreen on his wristband, intending to pick up where he left off halfway through the practice problems. 

Instead, Yunho is met with an almost blank screen, only one line of text reading “Good luck next year” with a cheeky winking emoticon next to it. 

Mingi shoots to his feet in indignation. He’s certain he knows exactly who is responsible. “That Choi Jaewook! I’ll sabotage  _ his  _ exam once he tries again after failing this one-”

“Mingi...”

“Someone ought to teach him a lesson-”

“Mingi…”

“He can’t just go around hacking people’s wristbands and stealing their practice questions! When did he even get the chance to-”

“Mingi!”

Finally Mingi stops talking enough to register Yunho begging him to sit back down and breathe for a minute. “It’s alright, I can just look at yours,” Yunho reminds him. “And besides, the exam’s in a few hours. I doubt Jaewook can do anything with those questions in time for it.”

They both know if the bully goes any further than he has… it’s expulsion he’s facing for attempted cheating on the Horizon Project acceptance exam. That’s a serious issue.

Mingi sinks back into his seat, unsatisfied. For Mingi, it’s not good enough until he can personally see the downfall of every single bully that plagues Yunho constantly. It’s just not fair.

Yunho never did anything to provoke their wrath. All he does is exist, and excel at his work, and the jealousy of every other student in the school is ignited against him. Sabotaging his chances at passing the exam is hardly a new offense. It’s the most important coming-of-age ritual in the world.  _ Everyone  _ wants to be in the chosen few.

Yunho’s classmates saw how much better of a chance he has than them and have been trying to put a halt to his momentum ever since. Top candidate is always a lonely spot. 

Until Mingi. In Yunho’s eyes, Mingi is the one person who sees him for who he really is. Not a pillar of talent or a poster boy for the youth, but just a regular person who wants to be normal every now and then.

Mingi, on the other hand, always stuck to the shadows like glue before Yunho befriended him and brought him out of his shell. He may not trust himself enough to hope for acceptance into his dream profession, but Yunho can see the gears turn in his head. He can see the fire in his eyes and knows he has what it takes to get in.

As the two of them sit and study, distorted shadows lengthen through the glass hexagrams and the sun traces its path to the horizon. The hour is nigh and the last group of examined students before them is released into the lobby when Mingi finally speaks what’s been on his mind all day.

“What if only one of us gets in?”

Someone had to say it.  
“Mingi…” Yunho whispers, so sadly and haltingly as it washes over him. He can’t imagine life on the Citadel without Mingi. He can’t consider living his dreams without his best friend by his side. And if he were to be the one who has to stay behind…

Looking up at the stars every day. Wondering how his missions were going, wondering if he was safe. “The chances are so slim,” he tries to reassure the younger. “Statistically speaking, the most likely option is that neither of us make it.”

And they’ve prepared themselves for that outcome. Mingi can teach alien languages to students, Yunho can become part of the homeland defense team. They can be roommates or neighbours at least, they can grow old remembering their days of minor delinquency and lives that were filled with happiness and ambition.

They can remain as they are, with no regrets.

The thought of separation paralyses them even as they stand and enter their exam room. Mercifully, their assigned seats are side by side, and they have a few seconds to squeeze hands reassuringly before the lights dim and the front screen comes to life. 

The voice gives its speech, cameras flicker on, and the race begins. Two hours to prove themselves.

The desks mold themselves to the examinees so that none of them can cheat with wandering eyes, and Mingi takes a deep breath. Two hours to go. Question 1.

He’s analysed the statistics, and he knows second guessing himself is a waste of time, so methodically he tackles each question with a practiced pace and lets himself relax.

The screen embedded into the desk records everything, question after question solved and answered to the best of his ability. What would he do if a crew member was bleeding out? If a bolt on the ship exterior came loose? If an unknown alien race ambushed him? If the temperature on the bridge changed too quickly? If a debris field came up on their radar? If the navigation system froze? If there was a hole in his spacesuit? 

Yunho becomes lightheaded towards the end of their time. He tries shaking it off and focusing on the final question. It’s about a hypothetical situation in which his ship is completely cut off from ground communications and power. He goes to type some solution of adjusting thrusters before remembering they wouldn’t be operational and letting his head hit the desk. 

Why can’t it be the simulation already?

He reads the question over three times before idly tapping the screen. Suddenly, the display zooms out to reveal a diagram.

“Was that there all along?” he gasps. A little IPF ship is depicted… in the orbit of an unregistered planet. Yunho’s eyes blow wide. This was a thinking outside the box challenge, and the answer was right here all along. Quickly, he types his answer into the box as the clock runs down. The solution is a gravity assist. Easy, old school maneuver.

The screen beeps and goes blank, desk reverting back to its usual shape, and Yunho glances over at Mingi, who looks like he’s also catching his breath.

The two make eye contact and nod. They both caught the trick question.

“Students at desks 1-15 make your way to Simulation 1,” the voice begins from the screen. Mingi is in that section, so obedienty he stands to file out. The voice continues to instruct Yunho’s half of the room but he isn’t listening. His eyes follow Mingi as he realises they’re going to be separated for this portion of the exam.

He doesn’t say anything but makes sure to grab Mingi’s attention.  _ You’ve got this _ , he tries to convey through his eyes.  _ I’ll see you soon. _

The simulation is just like he’s always imagined it would be. Each student is led to their own little cockpit, told to strap in, and left alone in the dark. The controls light up in front of him. Yunho takes hold of the joystick with familiar ease and begins to navigate his ship.

The simulation is incredibly lifelike and with every obstacle thrown at him, Yunho’s heart picks up speed from the thrill of danger. He’s flying so fast past what looks like wide open space and tilting and swooping with just the twitch of his hands on the controls. Despite narrowly missing collision with debris, other spacecraft, and even a pair of merging suns, this is the freest he’s ever felt. The time is gone before he knows it. And he’s hit every target in the bullseye.

Soon, he’s back in the lobby looking for Mingi, instructed to wait with the rest of the crowd and feeling strangely serene.

“How do you think you did?” He asks the moment Mingi is back in view, the relief visible on his face. The two of them sit and Mingi immediately talks his ear off about how long it took to traverse one of the moons in his simulation and how afraid he was of not racking up enough points in time.

“You just have to think of it as a game,” an unfamiliar voice to his left breaks in. Both of them whip around to see a blushing boy lingering next to them. “Sorry,” he mumbles. “I couldn’t help but overhear. My name’s Junyoung, by the way.”

Mingi smiles and introduces the two of them before continuing to chat with Junyoung, Yunho sitting back and resting his eyes for a moment. The minutes become hours and soon the sun has set. The results should be out any minute. 

Mingi shakes him awake what feels like seconds later to push some food at him and mid-bite, the announcement comes through the PA system. Deafening silence swallows the lobby.

“The 3018 Horizon Project team has been chosen.”

Yunho swallows his bite. Mingi is crushing his hand again. A pin drop would be cacophonous. 

“Your pilot; Kim Hongjoong. Your navigator; Park Seonghwa. Your medic; Kang Yeosang. Your engineers; Jung Wooyoung and Choi San. Your technicians; Kim Youngseok and Lee Junyoung.”

The boy they just met a couple of hours prior gasps and falls to his knees amid the shocked noises of other people in the room discovering they’ve been selected. That must be him.

“Your xenologist; Song Mingi.”

Suddenly Mingi is bouncing up and down, his hand still firmly in Yunho’s as they wait for the final position. It has to be Yunho. It has to be him, they will not be separated. There’s anticipation mixed with fear shining in Mingi’s eyes and the seconds crawl by before the PA crackles with the announcement.

“Your gunners; Choi Jongho and Jeong Yunho.”

Mingi’s body is slamming into Yunho’s, pinning him in a hug so tight he can hardly feel the tears streaming down his face. Yunho’s hand comes up to his mouth in shock.

They actually did it. They made it. They’re part of the Horizon Project.

Junyoung is tapping them on the shoulder to follow him and the others into the briefing room that just opened for them. Everything is happening so fast and it’s all so surreal, Yunho freezes in place. When he walks through that door, his life will completely change. He wipes his tears with a shaking hand and takes his first step. The voice from the PA system spares them a final word before going silent and leaving the rest of the disappointed students to their grief.

“Congratulations.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’ve got our team!! Excited to see what happens to them next? Don’t forget to let me know your thoughts in the comments or on twitter! Hope you’re all staying safe and at home if possible!
> 
> This chapter’s recommended listening: Sunshine by Stray Kids


	3. Orientation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hongjoong feels like he’s the only one here without a friend. He isn’t sure if it’s normal for everyone to already know each other on a Horizon Project team, but it seems he’s the odd one out. Must have missed the memo.

Yeosang’s head is already spinning. He clearly heard Wooyoung’s name being called just after his and unless there happens to be another Jung Wooyoung he doesn’t know about…

_ “What changed, Yeosang? Why did you suddenly decide to go along with what everyone always tells you to do? What happened to ‘if one of us can’t get in, neither of us can’? That’s not the Yeosang I made a promise with.” _

Yeosang is being led into the briefing room as the crowd swells around him, but he turns his head to catch a glimpse of his teammates.

_ “I just want to show her that she’s wrong about me. I’m not useless and fragile, I can pass that exam and I can join the Project and get to the Citadel. And I’m sorry that you can’t come along with me. I really mean that, Wooyoung.” _

He spots an unmistakable shock of purple hair and freezes in place. There’s immeasurable joy mixed with a haze of confusion in his head now and he has to pinch himself to see if he’s dreaming.

_ “You have a few hours to change your mind.” _

But it was Wooyoung who changed his mind, not Yeosang. Their eyes meet through the crowd, even as Yeosang is nudged forward and into the briefing room. When Wooyoung follows, he realises he’s more happy about the fact that Wooyoung made it than he is about his own success.

They’re going to the Citadel together.

___

Hongjoong feels like he’s the only one here without a friend.

He isn’t sure if it’s normal for everyone to already know each other on a Horizon Project team, but it seems he’s the odd one out. Must have missed the memo.

The tall brown haired kid has been sobbing for the past five minutes while the tall redhead next to him bounces up and down. A younger boy stands with them, occasionally venturing into conversation.

There’s a boy with lilac hair and a brunette in the corner having a whispered conversation that looks very urgent and also very misplaced.

Hongjoong perks up when another boy comes up to him, shaking his hand seriously and introducing himself as San. He wants to compliment him on the cute little strip of white hair he has and comment on how he’s sure they’ll get along great, when the boy rushes towards a solidly built brunette on the other side of him.

“Jongho! You made it too, how unbelievable!”

The boy blushes and tries to hide a smile. “I didn’t really think I would, I mean I was completely unprepared.”

Was there  _ anyone  _ else here who was strangers to the rest of the room?

“I had a feeling you’d get in, you seem very levelheaded,” San chatters on before excusing himself to shake hands with the other engineer, the lilac-haired Wooyoung.

The youngest member of the team, one of the technicians by the name of Youngseok, introduces himself and Hongjoong feels a little more relaxed, instead of standing there uncomfortably like the awkward kid at the family reunion. 

The door opens again to admit another boy, their tenth member. His hair is black as midnight and he has a curious expression, almost like he doesn’t even want to be here. The room begins to quiet down.

A woman enters behind him and the door slides shut. “This is Park Seonghwa, the navigator,” she announces, motioning everyone to the seats around the conference table and taking a place at the head.

“And I am Han Soojin, your team coach. Welcome to the Horizon Project.”

_ Good, _ Hongjoong thinks as he slides in between Youngseok and Seonghwa.  _ I was starting to think I was in the wrong briefing room. _

“Han Soojin? Isn’t her father a high ranking IPF officer?” The redhead whispers on the other side of the table.

“That’s correct,” the brunette next to Wooyoung confirms. Yeosang, Hongjoong corrects himself when a holographic nameplate appears in front of each of them. “My parents know him.” 

Soojin ignores their gossip and continues pulling up holographic displays with the swipe of her fingers.

“The plan for today,” she captures all their attention effortlessly before going on. “I’ll brief you here and allow for questions until the reporters come. When they arrive, it is strictly photos only. The full press conference will be scheduled for a later date. I’ll review safety protocols and rules with you and give you all a tour of the facilities as well as where you’ll be staying for your time here. Official training begins tomorrow.”

IPF wasn’t messing around with this. 

A diagram pops up with two separate uniforms, labelled in 3D resolution. “You may have passed the initial diagnostic acceptance exam, but your journey to the Citadel is not guaranteed,” she begins, pressing her red lips together. “You are all currently in the trainee stage, and your positions have been decided,” here the uniform on the left enlarged and spun slowly for everyone to take a look.

“The goal for each of you is to train diligently enough to pass the next examination--”

“The specialist proficiency tests,” San finishes for her, eyes twinkling with excitement as he regards the uniform. At Soojin’s raised eyebrow, he chuckles nervously and sits back in his seat. “My sister was part of a previous Horizon Project.”

Soojin nods pensively and enlarges the uniform projection on the right. The official Horizon Project team uniform. “Be mindful that a failing grade on these tests is grounds for expulsion from the Project. Another student will be called to replace you. Once you have all succeeded at mastering your field, you are almost ready for liftoff. But first, the medical exam.” 

The uniforms disappear and a graph of statistics takes their place. “These are the required health and fitness fundamentals for space flight. Take a good look, they are your prerequisites. Your physical survival training will prepare you for this examination, but every precaution must be taken. An IPF crew member’s job is a very dangerous one. If you are not up to the task, you had better see yourself out now.”

No one moves an inch, and Hongjoong stifles a laugh at the way San is looking at the statistics. He took the coach’s words quite literally. 

“That’s what I expected,” Soojin smiles at them, softening for a moment before she swipes her finger again and a holographic timeline takes the stage. “This is your schedule for the upcoming training period. It’s not necessary to memorise,” she adds quickly as the redhead, Mingi, scrambles to copy everything down on his wristband holoscreen. “All of this information will be sent to your wristbands later today, when we’re not so pressed for time.”

Mingi sheepishly flicks off his screen as she resumes the presentation. “The main goal of your training is to prepare you for your duties at the Citadel, but the secondary goal is to select a leader. Each of you will be watched closely during your time here, but especially the two of you who have been selected as candidates. Hongjoong and Seonghwa.”

Hongjoong and Seonghwa immediately glance at each other and then snap their heads back down to look at the table. Off to a great start.

“You will be split into two teams, one under the authority of each potential leader, and compete in a series of games. These are training simulations as well as auditions, and will be the focal point of your training,” Soojin casts her gaze around the table, landing on each member briefly. “Take them seriously. They are your main avenue to showing off your skills.”

Hongjoong feels eyes on him but doesn’t look up from the table. He’s been in the Horizon Project under an hour, and already he’s been singled out. If Soojin senses any discomfort, she doesn’t comment on it, moving right along and motioning to the hologram.

“The daily training will be conducted in classes. All of you will be present for general lessons, and individual or small group sessions according to your specialised positions. A diet and workout regimen has also been prescribed for each of you,” she clicks through these images quickly, eyes lingering on a clock affixed to the wall.

“Are we already on a schedule?” Junyoung mumbles, earning an elbow from Younseok.

Soojin plows ahead, “Any other specific events will be announced closer to the date. Now, onto rules and protocols.”

Hongjoong gulps. This is the fine print of the Horizon Project.

“This is a secure facility, all information that leaves it must be authorised by myself or one of my superiors. Your contact with the rest of the outside world will be limited. Should you need anything, you come to me or another IPF officer who can help you. Dress code must be maintained at all times. Food is limited to designated areas. We reserve the right to confiscate anything that we believe to be interfering with your training. For a full list of behaviours we do and do not tolerate, check the guidelines which will be sent to your wristbands. You will at times be frustrated and confused by your training, however, you must trust that what we are asking you to do is essential and within your abilities. Any questions?”

They’re given a second to take it all in before Jongho hesitantly raises his hand.

“Are we allowed to go back home? I didn’t anticipate getting in and I left takeout on the table and my mother is going to kill me.”

The table breaks out into a chorus of laughter at the frankness of Jongho’s words before settling down and realising it was a serious question. 

“You may not leave this facility until further notice, unless you have resigned,” Soojin answers, switching off the display. “As soon as the reporters get the word out, your parents will know you’ve passed the exam. If you would like to contact them further, we can authorise a call but it will be recorded. That goes for all of you.”

Hongjoong sits back with a frown. Why the IPF needs to listen in on their calls is a mystery to him. He doesn’t really like the idea of them overhearing all the sappy stuff his mother is bound to spew the moment he reaches her.

“Yes, Yunho?” Soojin’s voice shakes Hongjoong out of his thoughts. 

“I was wondering about the rooming arrangements, since we’re living here now and all…” The tall brunette sends a teary glance at Mingi and Hongjoong wonders if he’s actually been crying this entire presentation. 

“I’ll take you to the dormitories at the end of the tour,” Soojin says with another look at the clock. “We’ll discuss roommates there.”

_ Fair enough _ , Hongjoong thinks before raising his hand. “How long exactly is our training period? Is it solely dependent on our progress?”

Soojin purses her red lips again before sighing and answering, “Our circumstances are a little bit different this year. Usually we would have multiple teams in training and deployed at their own pace. However, due to a situation on the Citadel, all previous teams are in the process of being sent up and your training period is going to be accelerated. By how much, I don’t know yet. You’ll all have to trust me to provide the information when it’s relevant.”

Hongjoong doesn’t like how vague of an answer that is, but he and all the others nod along submissively. Soojin instructs them to make themselves presentable and announces that she’s going to fetch the reporters. The moment she’s gone, hushed conversations break out.

“What’s wrong with the Citadel?” Wooyoung murmurs, even though none of them have an answer.

Hongjoong peeks out the corner of his eye at Seonghwa. The boy is a statue, and it seems as if he hasn’t moved at all the entire time they’ve been sitting there. Hongjoong shoves back the thought that he’d rather keep sitting there in silence with him and tries to come up with something to say.

The last thing he wants is to start off on the wrong foot with this fellow member that’s supposed to be his rival. They’ll have to be teammates regardless of which of them wins the leader title.

“Can you believe that trick question?” he laughs timidly, turning to face Seonghwa fully. The black-haired boy stares back at him obliviously and Hongjoong wonders if he already said something wrong.

“Simple gravity assist, who knew?” Still receiving no sort of recognition, he babbles on about the exam question. “I didn’t expect a problem like that, where you have to tap the screen. A real thinking out of the box situation, huh? You got it though, right? Well, of course you did, I mean you made the team…”

“I’m from Russia,” Seonghwa suddenly blurts out.

Hongjoong has no idea why he’s changing the subject so abruptly but looks at him again with genuine interest. “You’re Russian?”

“No,” he snickers before composing himself. “I just lived there, with a host family. To study.”

“Navigation, right?” Hongjoong finally relaxes. At Seonghwa’s nod he decides to keep talking. “I considered studying navigation, too, but… well, I was convinced to be a pilot again.”

Seonghwa doesn’t press so Hongjoong has nothing else to say about it. Probably for the better.

Before he can come up with something else to lead with, Soojin re-enters the room and arranges them all in a line against the wall. Saved from anymore awkward interactions, Hongjoong puts on his best smile and stands still for the camera flashes. 

It’s easy when he can just pretend he’s smiling for his mother.

___

The entire IPF complex is a kind of ring, strung together with skyways for the tram to travel on. As soon as all ten of them file out the left side, they begin the tour in a clockwise rotation of the circle. 

Wooyoung can clearly see the training dome through the tram window. It’s impossible to miss, easily the largest structure of all the facilities, with a massive glass roof, curved to enclose trainees in a high-tech simulation so immersive it becomes like another world. He’s only heard rumours, but that place is the one to watch out for. 

Yeosang lets out a little gasp from beside him and Wooyoung cracks a smile. When he’d thrown caution to the wind and showed up for the exam, he hadn’t been thinking ahead to all the possibilities. Namely, the possibility that he and Yeosang could both end up passing and on the team together. 

Assuming they both prevailed through the training process, this was their dream coming to life. Both of them ditching planet Earth and their lousy parents and reaching for the stars together. With eight other people along for the ride, of course.

The dome sure looked intimidating, but Wooyoung didn’t regret acing that acceptance exam for a second. 

With practiced ease, Soojin leads them off the tram and past various classrooms, pointing out the observatories in the middle of the complex, between the headquarters and the dome, and asserting that an in-depth tour of those facilities was unnecessary. They knew where they were if they needed them.

“Through this tunnel is the training dome,” Soojin informs them, stopping at the entrance and stepping back so everyone can get a good look. “I’m sure you’ve heard about it. When it’s time to send you in there, you’ll be ready for it, don’t worry.” She flashes them an eager grin and moves right along to the next building.

“Medical facilities!”

Yeosang perks up again, drinking in every new piece of technology he lays eyes on. “This building serves multiple purposes. You’ll all receive regular checkups here and it will be available in the event of an emergency. Also, our medic-in-training…” She turns to find him and smiles when he raises his hand tentatively. “Ah, there you are. Yeosang, you’ll be spending your hands-on training sessions here.”

Yeosang nods distractedly as he watches a pair of doctors discussing something behind the glass walls separating them from the group. Wooyoung practically has to drag him along as they reboard the tram. 

It’s a similar spiel in the hangars, where their pilot Hongjoong swivels his head around to look at all the different aircraft before moving on. 

They’re at the back of the complex now, and Wooyoung can see the launch pad behind them and the small village of research and production facilities separating them from the back end of the dome. The tram makes a stop but Soojin doesn’t move to lead them out and into the building.

“Where are we now?” Wooyoung asks after a moment of hesitation before the tram starts moving again.

“Restricted facilities,” Soojin answers without missing a beat. “Authorised personnel only.”

“And what exactly is down there?” Wooyoung presses, peeking out the back of the tram as they pull away from the nondescript building.

“That’s classified,” Soojin smirks at him. “But if you really want to know, it’s just boring stuff. Labs, archives, government secrets…”

The tram pulls into another large building and Soojin resumes her tour guide act. “The next two facilities are important for your usage. This one houses the mess hall, gym, swimming pool, several courts, and other common areas. To you, it’s completely accessible.”

She lets them ooh and ahh over everything, popping their heads into each room and wondering how the food tastes or how to use the equipment.  _ All in due time _ , Wooyoung supposes.

The next and last building they’re touring is their dormitory. Wooyoung looks out the tram window at the shining lake separating the skyway from the dome and holds on tightly to Yeosang’s hand. He tells himself he’ll be fine rooming with any of his teammates, they all seem nice enough, but deep down he knows Yeosang doesn’t want them to be separated either.

“Here we are.”

They see a few members of previous Horizon Project teams milling about on their own floors as they pass through, but Soojin informs them there are a lot fewer present than usual. They’ll all be flown up to the Citadel soon, apparently.

Wooyoung even catches sight of Team TBZ, the Horizon Project group from last year’s exam. They must have trained quickly too if they’re already being flown up with only twelve months of training.

The thought lights a fire in his veins that makes him want to start right this minute. The Citadel seems so much more attainable now, on the other side of the exam.

“Alright,” Soojin sighs when the elevator reaches their floor. “The rooms are labelled. Everything you need should already be there. You may call your families, but just as a reminder, all communications will be recorded. Bathrooms are at the end of the hall just off your common room area. There’s enough food stocked up there for dinner, but you’ll be expected to eat in the mess hall starting tomorrow. By now, all the information should be uploaded to your wristbands. Consult it and, if you need anything, my contact is there. Give me a call.”

All the boys mutter their acknowledgement and step out of the elevator. Soojin stops the door before it slides shut and flashes them another genuine smile. “Rest well tonight, boys. You’ve earned it.”

With that, she’s gone.

The ten of them stand there for a moment, almost as if expecting for someone else to tell them what to do, but it’s clear that they’ve been left to their own devices for now. There’s a general unspoken agreement to find their rooms first, since all of them are brimming with curiosity over who they’re sharing their space with for the next who knows how long.

Wooyoung and Yeosang shuffle past each of the five rooms, reading the displays above the doors before moving to the next ones. Junyoung and Youngseok are the first, then Yunho and San, Jongho and Mingi, Hongjoong and Seonghwa, and then-- there it is.

Yeosang and Wooyoung.

The pair squeeze each other tighter as Yeosang lifts up his hand to the display to the left of the door. It lights up and opens at his command. “Fingerprint access,” Wooyoung realises out loud. “Smart.”

It appears Soojin was right, everything they need is there. Strictly made pod beds, two closets, each full of uniforms, a couple of desks with study materials, even a few drawers built into the bases of their pod beds for their personal effects. 

Yeosang presses a button that sends the drawer sliding open with a quiet hiss to find it empty. “I guess we’ll fill them later…” he says quietly.

“With what?” Wooyoung pipes up as he throws himself on the opposite bed. “Drones?”

“If they let me build any,” Yeosang sighs, pulling up some prototypes on his wristband and staring at them wistfully.

“Even if they do, it’s not like you’ll have much free time,” Wooyoung mumbles, turning on his side to look at Yeosang. “You’ll be busy studying. Both of us will.”

“Kind of ironic, isn’t it?” Yeosang chuckles, turning off the display. “We’ve had our fill of studying and they’re already asking us to do more. It’s still an uphill battle.”

Wooyoung sobers for a moment before flashing an encouraging smile. “But look at us now! Your mother would blow her top off if she knew who you were rooming with.”

“She doesn’t have control over me anymore,” Yeosang sighs contentedly before regarding his wristband again with a question in his eyes. “I wonder if I should call her, though…”

“I’m not calling my parents, that’s for sure,” Wooyoung declares, flopping down onto his back again. “I don’t have any of Mom’s contact information anyway, and Dad can find out when he watches the news. Then maybe he’ll realise.”

“Realise what?” Yeosang tilts his head until Wooyoung turns to face him again, eyes shining. 

“That I turned out well, despite him.”

___

Seonghwa and Hongjoong wait until everyone else has found their rooms to enter their own. Seonghwa’s not really sure why, but he chalks it up to leader instincts and then immediately scraps the thought. Leadership is the last thing he wants to think about right now.

“Coming?” Hongjoong pokes his head out of their room and looks at him expectantly with wide eyes.

Hongjoong. The white haired pilot he’s supposed to be friends and enemies with at the same time.

Seonghwa had known when he moved in earlier that he’d be sharing with someone by that name. Now he has a face to go with the name, as well as a few important tidbits of information that hadn’t been shared with him when he flew over from Russia.

Namely, the fact that he’s going to be pitted against this guy for a position neither of them asked for. That little fact complicates things.

Seonghwa nods and steps in, trying not to act like he owns the place, even if he already owns half of it, and knowing at the same time that it’s futile. Hongjoong is no idiot, he passed the acceptance exam and surely he would notice Seonghwa’s belongings were already present.

The smaller boy moves around the room, muttering something about how it is just comfortable enough to not be a bunker. Seonghwa smirks at this. He has a point there.

Eventually, Hongjoong’s eyes flit over to the half of the room Seonghwa has already claimed as his own. “Already moved in, huh?” His face betrays nothing as he looks to Seonghwa for confirmation, and Seonghwa simply nods. Silence seems to be the best strategy with him.

“You came from Russia,” Hongjoong says quietly, almost like he’s reminding himself, as he takes a seat on his own bed. Seonghwa mirrors him, wondering faintly if anyone started dinner. 

“Are the test questions different there?” It sounds like simple curiosity, and Hongjoong is apparently nothing if not curious, but the question makes Seonghwa’s stomach start doing backflips. 

“Yes,” he lies easily. He has no idea what the test is like in Russia. He never took it. But he has to explain his earlier slip-up regarding the trick question somehow. As Hongjoong nods absentmindedly, accepting the answer, Seonghwa shuffles so that he’s sitting on his hands. His wrists are still raw from being bound, and he’s tired of being asked all these questions.

“You must have called your parents already,” Hongjoong says, cheerful again. “You mind if I…?”

“Not at all,” Seonghwa reassures immediately, laying back so that he doesn’t have to look at the other boy anymore. He hasn’t called his parents. He’s not sure if he can lie to them, too.

“Hongjoong! My boy!” A woman’s voice comes through Hongjoong’s wristband and he falls back on his bed with a giggle. “My precious, precious boy…”

His mother then. 

Seonghwa’s eyes begin to sting so he averts them, distractedly tracing patterns on the metal ceiling. He could have called his own parents, if he wanted to. There’s about fourteen missed calls from them on his wristband, and they haven’t reached out that much to him since middle school.

Hongjoong’s mother gushes on about how all her friends are sending their congratulations and how proud she is and how she knew he could do it. “It wouldn’t be possible without you,” he replies softly. “And I miss you already.”

Suddenly, Seonghwa feels like he’s eavesdropping.

“When can I see you, baby?” The heartache in the woman’s voice makes Seonghwa squirm. It hasn’t even been one day yet and already his roommate is showing a strong attachment to his parents. Seonghwa wonders if these phone calls are going to be a regular thing.

“I’m sorry, Mom, but they have a-- there’s just this rule. No leaving the complex. I’d have to get some kind of special permission. It’s part of our training.” 

Seonghwa resists the urge to correct him. They  _ say  _ it’s part of their training, but the real purpose is to keep as much confidential information in the facility as possible, Soojin said so herself. But Hongjoong is clearly trying to be optimistic, and Seonghwa won’t stomp on that.

The topic changes as she asks about his position. Hongjoong sends Seonghwa a sheepish glance as he explains that he’s the new pilot and also up for the leader position. Of course, his mother heaps praises and well-wishes at the news.

Hongjoong is relaying what little he knows about his teammates (“they seem nice” and “I think several of them already know each other”) when a timer appears above his screen. He sits up in surprise and explains to his mother, “The call is timed, Mom. We only have a couple of minutes left.”

“Oh, that’s a shame. I could listen to your voice for hours,” she protests quietly. Hongjoong hums along and it’s quiet for a few seconds before her voice comes through again. “You’re going to ask me not to talk about it, but there is something I need to say.”

Hongjoong tenses and unconsciously, Seonghwa tenses too, eyes darting over to gauge his reaction.

“Your father is very, very proud of you. I’m sure of it.”

Seonghwa sits up straight and heads for the door at the little shuddering breath Hongjoong takes in at this statement. He’s officially heard too much.

He finally lets out a breath when the door has closed behind him and considers whether he should have asked Hongjoong to take his call in the hallway. But then everyone would have heard it.

Seonghwa sighs and runs a hand through his hair. This dorm is not very conducive to privacy. If his wrist rub burns don’t heal any quicker, that’s going to become a real problem.

Their room is the closest to the elevator, with Junyoung and Youngseok directly across from them. Seonghwa had investigated before, and Yeosang and Wooyoung were neighboring them, with a small common room on their other side. Yunho and San are opposite Yeosang and Wooyoung, with Jongho and Mingi in the last room. Six doors, three on each side, and the bathrooms at the end of the hall.

It was a simple arrangement, and Seonghwa can appreciate the careful planning if not the close quarters.

The door across from him suddenly slides open and he jerks his head up to see Youngseok peeking out. “Is anyone making dinner?” the boy asks shyly. His gaze shifts between himself and the door behind him, and Seonghwa figures he’s struggling to decide which leader he should be asking.

“I’ll do it,” Seonghwa volunteers, trekking over to the common room to search the shelves. He tells himself it’s to allow Hongjoong to finish his call in peace, and not to gain some leverage over him with the support of the younger members. Besides, he’s not even sure if their support will factor into the final decision.

There are pots, pans, ramen packets, and basic seasonings stowed in there, so Seonghwa gets to work and soon the other members are drifting into the room, coaxed out by the smell.

From their idle conversation it sounds like they’re all getting along, and Wooyoung even pokes his head over Seonghwa’s shoulder to see what’s cooking. 

“San figured out how to hardwire the windows to display any scenery you want!” The tall gunner- Yunho- informs them all excitedly as he helps set the table.

“Just send me an image and I can make it a preset!” San declares with a smile, rushing to shake Seonghwa’s hand. “I’m San, by the way.”

Seonghwa can’t help but smile back at the boy’s upbeat attitude.

“Won’t we get enough projected scenery on the Citadel?” Junyoung chuckles, taking a seat and accepting his plate of food.

“You’re just saying that because you can see the rest of the city from your window,” Yeosang teases. “The only view from our side is the exterior of the skyway tubes.”

Conversation dwindles as everyone takes a seat and after a pause, Seonghwa realises they’re all looking at him. “Right,” he clears his throat and raises his glass. “To our acceptance into the Horizon Project, and our last night eating junk food. Cheers!”

Glasses are clinked all around until Hongjoong walks in while everyone is mid-drink. His eyes are red-rimmed and Seonghwa pointedly ignores them, offering him a plate of food before going back to his own. 

“Sorry for being late everyone,” Hongjoong says quietly, blowing on his food before trying it. 

The table resounds with thanks and noises of satisfaction as all of them dig in and it’s Hongjoong who starts the conversation up again. “So, how many of you know each other and how did you meet, exactly?” 

When the lights are out and he’s tucked himself into bed, Seonghwa tries to adjust to the unfamiliar sounds of his new home. Hongjoong is passed out almost immediately but the new atmosphere takes some getting used to for the new navigator.

The quiet  _ shiff  _ of the tram coming and going is his biggest distraction, and the occasional beeping and blinking of various devices around the room threaten to disturb his attempts at slumber, but he reminds himself to take it all one thing at a time.

Each interaction with his teammates, each half-truth he has to cover with, each day of training challenges.

One thing at a time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Orientation complete! Thanks so much for reading and sticking with it, hopefully the update pace will quicken as the action picks up. Don’t forget to comment or let me know on twitter if you’re ready to see what’s next ;) 
> 
> This chapter’s recommended listening: Amusement Park by Lay


	4. Launch Sequence

Mingi is already half awake when a shadow moves across his vision. The first night in a new place is always difficult, full of turning restlessly back and forth and missing his own bed pod and the neighbouring snores of his parents. Not that Jongho is a bad roommate, he’s just a bit standoffish and intimidating and currently tiptoeing out the door.

_ Currently tiptoeing out the door? _

Mingi nearly catapults himself out of bed from the shock before deciding to take the tactical approach and follow covertly. 

Jongho creeps down the hall and takes the stairs instead of calling the elevator, Mingi following behind at just the right distance that he can’t spot him or hear his footsteps. What his roommate is even doing sneaking out is beyond him. He checks his wristband for the time as he gets on the tram in the car behind Jongho’s and it’s just after 4 A.M. Too early for all this spy business. 

As the lab buildings come into view, Mingi begins to realise what’s going on here. Jongho’s trying to break into the restricted facilities. 

Even as he gets off after him, he’s baffled that this is how his first night as a Horizon team member is going. 

“Hey!” He whisper-yells, catching up with Jongho. The younger boy turns where he was hanging back to avoid cameras and gives Mingi an annoyed look. “Why are you following me?”

“Why are you trying to break into the archives?” Mingi counters, crossing his arms and trying to replicate that you’re-in-big-trouble-young-man look his mother does occasionally. “Are you  _ trying  _ to get kicked out?”

“I am  _ trying  _ to get answers,” Jongho responds, and from the look in his eyes he’s completely serious. This is no joke. “The Project was just a means to an end. I’m here to find out what happened to my grandmother.”

Mingi furrows his brow. “Who was she? You think IPF archives can tell you?”

From Jongho’s panicked expression, Mingi realises he must have forgotten to whisper. “She was a very famous diplomat on one of the first Horizon Projects,” he answers, moving closer. “And if you’re going to help, I suggest you lower your voice.”

“Who says I’m going to help?” Mingi scoffs, still quiet compared to before because, however skeptical he is about all this, he doesn’t really want Jongho to get arrested. “How are you even planning on getting in there anyway?”

“I was thinking on my feet,” Jongho admits. “Mostly I just came here to scout out the security.”

“At least they don’t have guards,” Mingi begins to laugh before hearing footsteps and grabbing Jongho, yanking him into an alcove and eyeing the tram tube. Another one should be here soon, right?

“Okay, they  _ do  _ have guards,” Jongho huffs. “So you can make a distraction and then I can—”

“No, hang on,” Mingi objects, resisting the urge to raise his voice at his roommate’s presumption. “I’m not helping you!”

“Then what do you propose we do?” Jongho deadpans.

“Go back to the dorm and back to sleep,” Mingi whispers, pausing when Jongho goes to roll his eyes. “And you can come back later if you absolutely must. I won’t say anything.”

Jongho stares at him for a moment, eyes reflecting the artificial glint of the rings lighting the tunnel that connects the trams to the archives, and finally nods. “I can’t promise I’ll go back to sleep, though.”

“You know, it’s only fair if you tell me who she was,” Mingi says quietly on the ride back, when Jongho’s focus on the silently sleeping buildings wanes and his eyes become clouded over from a lost train of thought. “I’ve studied all the old astronauts, especially the diplomacy missions. Your grandmother was probably one of my heroes.”

“Choi Jieun,” Jongho says after a moment. The faint hiss of the air pressure lock engaging each time the tram opens its doors at a stop punctuates the silence. “And she was the diplomat aboard IPF’s fourth Horizon Project.”

Mingi gapes at him. “Choi Jieun? The xenologist who cracked the code of not one but  _ two  _ separate native languages on the planet Biso?”

“Yes, that Choi Jieun,” Jongho sighs as they step off the tram together and make their way into the dormitory. “Except that after she returned from that mission, she went to the Citadel and was never heard from again.”

Mingi freezes where his finger was hovering over the call button for the elevator and looks at his roommate wide-eyed. “She didn’t die on a mission?”

Jongho shakes his head and the doors slide open. “They would have held a funeral like they always do for officials killed in action.” The elevator stops at their floor and the two step out, deep in conversation with their voices naturally hushed as they return to their room. 

“And what’s more is that I found out the Citadel’s construction completion date, and it’s only a year before she went missing. So, I’ve actually constructed a timeline of her life through other sources since I never knew her personally.”

“Can I see it?” Mingi asks, a slow smile spreading on his face because this whole thing smells like adventure and he absolutely wants in on it. 

Jongho stares back, sizing him up and evidently finding him trustworthy before tapping around on his wristband until a holographic display blows up and fills the room. Mingi claps excitedly and joins him on his bed to look at it from the same angle.

“So, here she’s born, here she meets my grandfather in school, here she joins the project, here is her training period and liftoff, here are the known dates of her early missions…” he points them out as the dots in time grow increasingly close to one another. “These are the early missions to Biso, the third one was her extended stay when she deciphered the languages. Then she comes back to Earth and gets married. She stays for a couple of years and gives birth to my dad, then she goes back to work where it appears to have been relatively peaceful for a year or two. Here is the day the Citadel was unveiled.”

The dot he points to is almost at the end of the timeline. “This is the date of her last mission assignment and here is the date when the rest of her team was reported to have returned. And I managed to get this footage of when they were next seen on the news-- without her.”

The dates are quite far apart. Mingi tries to think of a good lead from the information presented.

“Do you think her teammates would be able to tell you anything about what happened?” He tries, knowing full well that if this has been a lifelong investigation for Jongho, he will already have exhausted it. 

“None of them returned to Earth after this,” Jongho sighs, letting the clip play through and watching the Horizon team wave cheerfully at the cameras. They certainly don’t look like they’ve just lost a member, but Mingi supposes they were used to smiling for the press by that point. “This team, the one that was formed her year, was the first to live out the rest of their lives on the Citadel. And all the teams followed after, effectively making it impossible to interview anyone without a secure phone call. And you know IPF monitors those.”

“But why not hold a funeral? Why not celebrate her the way Horizon teams are supposed to be celebrated?” Mingi muses. It’s the part he doesn’t get. That something would go wrong and an astronaut would be killed wasn’t a stretch of the imagination, but that everyone would act like she never existed the moment something went wrong-- it’s against everything Mingi knows about the IPF. 

Jongho shrugs helplessly. He’s considered it, too, and the answer escapes him. “Eventually after being turned away enough times, Grandfather stopped asking. ‘She disappeared.’ That’s all he says about it.”

Mingi purses his lips and gives a sympathetic smile. It’s probably a lot harder that way than if she had died on a mission to Biso or somewhere else. There’s no opportunity for closure, just a constantly open book turned to a blank page with only one word written.  _ Maybe. _

“Soojin might be able to help you,” he suggests after the display has been switched off and they’re both lying in their beds staring at the screws in the metal ceiling, unable to find sleep. Jongho is quiet for just long enough that Mingi assumes he must have gone to sleep after all when he whispers faintly, “I’m not sure if I trust her yet. I’m not really sure if I trust anyone.”

Mingi tries to pretend he didn’t hear it. He can’t blame Jongho anyway, when everyone walks around acting like your grandmother never existed and your entire life must feel like a lie, it must be difficult to trust even yourself.

Mingi tries not to take it personally, at least. Besides, he and Yunho passed, they’re going to stay together for the rest of their lives, and a new chapter begins in the morning.

___

Breakfast is an unceremonious, rushed affair. The cafeteria is sparsely populated, and the team doesn’t have time to really introduce themselves to anyone else before their first class meeting, which is fine with Jongho.

He ignores the girls from Team REV waving at him and pays attention to his food. It tastes quite good by his standards but his standards aren’t very high, so he watches his roommate Mingi to see how it suits his more middle class tastes.

Unfortunately there isn’t enough of a reaction to go by, considering the fact that Mingi’s mouth is a nondiscriminatory vacuum and he probably wouldn’t notice if he was putting moldy kimchi in it. 

In fact, the entire table looks too tired to care what exactly they’re eating. Must have been a rough first night.

Both potential leaders seem exhausted and sit at opposite ends of the table. It’s unlikely that they’ll actually be able to avoid each other considering that they’re roommates, but Jongho doesn’t really care which one wins. As long as they don’t interfere with him.

San has once again claimed a neighbouring seat and messes with his hair while pushing the food around his plate. He looks marginally more relaxed than the last time Jongho saw him, but it’s apparent he’s being careful not to eat too much in the event that he loses it again.

The purple-haired Wooyoung is in a light conversation with the young technician Youngseok but only appears to be half-listening, his eyes wandering around the room at the other teams scattered throughout.

Their medic Yeosang sits next to him, pale and stiff again, and if Jongho thought Wooyoung was distracted, Yeosang is full on zoned out. Maybe he’s thinking about the training ahead, maybe he’s thinking about the millionaire lifestyle he left behind. It’s none of Jongho’s concern.

On the other side of the table Yunho and Mingi have already cleared their plates and are laughing about something. It didn’t take long to figure out that they were childhood friends, and any inclination Jongho had of trusting Mingi has dissipated on seeing him whisper something into Yunho’s ear. He can only hope it’s about the girls staring at them and not the adventure last night.

Lastly, the other technician Junyoung sits tapping on his wristband with one hand and absentmindedly shovelling food with the other. “Hey, did you guys realise you can view your test answers?” He points out the text on his holoscreen and Jongho is tempted to take a look at his own scores. It’s still a mystery to him how he got in.

Before he can pull up the display, an alarm appears for each of them, reminding them of their class in five minutes and sending the team hurrying out and onto the tram to get to their classroom in time. Today may just be protocol introduction but being late on the first day is never a good move.

Class is hardly an upgrade from the usual educational procedures every student in Korea is familiar with. They find their seats, sit quietly and take notes, and Soojin lectures them on the outline for the rest of their training period. The first hour is full of exciting news and promises about all the cool weapons they’ll be trained with and all the intense simulations they’ll be exposed to, and when Soojin launches into the history of the IPF, half the class promptly tunes out.

“Nothing we haven’t heard before, huh?” Wooyoung leans over and whispers with a cheeky grin. Jongho simply shrugs in response, because there’s not much else to say on the subject. “Don’t you think it’s ironic, though?” the engineer points out more seriously. “The Horizon Project is touted as this elite squad with special training, and here we are doing the same routine as everyone else.”

He leans back over into his own space at a withering glare from Soojin, but Jongho smiles softly at his pragmatism. Soojin addresses the class with a question to engage their wandering attentions. “Can anyone tell me about the founder of the IPF?”

Mingi’s hand shoots into the air and Jongho isn’t surprised that he’s among the half that was actually invested in the lesson. “Mr. Kim Woomin,” he answers enthusiastically when called upon. 

“Mr. Kim was already an overseer of space expeditions at the time, and it was his suggestion to create an organisation of government officials from unified countries across the world that would act as a funding entity and representative of the Earth’s interests in interplanetary relations. His achievement led to the advancement of space travel technology and the discovery of multiple alien species. Kim Woomin was also the founder of the Horizon Project and it was under his supervision that the Project became focused on the goal of identifying new planets and investigating their suitability for becoming the new homeplanet of the human race.” 

Soojin is clearly pleased and Jongho doesn’t know why, but something in him makes him raise his hand. “How did he die?” He asks when Soojin nods him on and he hopes Mingi doesn’t notice and call him out later. He’s only asking out of bitterness at the fact that apart from his grandmother Jieun, every other astronaut in the history of the Horizon Project seems to have received a proper ceremony.

“There was an accident,” Soojin answers after a moment. She goes to pull up the video footage and Wooyoung begins muttering under his breath. “I’m surprised you haven’t seen this,” she hums pensively. “It was all over the news ten years ago.”

Jongho grinds his teeth together. “We didn’t get a news connection in my part of the city.” And even if they did, his mother would never allow them to watch.

Soojin tilts her head understandingly and the clip begins to play while she explains it. “Mr. Kim was in the spacecraft ready to take his final retirement trip to the Citadel when something went wrong and a fire broke out.”

Hongjoong excuses himself quietly but Jongho watches the ship practically fall out of the sky with fascination. An accident in the cockpit? Not the death he expected for the greatest public figure of their age, even if he was elderly and accomplished by the time it happened.

A sombre atmosphere settles over the room when the expected grand funeral processions stop playing and Soojin smiles at them before segwaying into the next part of the lecture.

“Accidents such as these have been prevented in following missions. Nothing inspires like the tragic death of a hero, and only the hardest workers get into the Horizon Project and influence the advancement of the field. The safety procedures are strictly enforced at all times…”

Jongho descends into contemplation about the history of the IPF. The organisation is essentially running the world on its own, with even the government body it answers to under its thumb. Which means asking around isn’t going to get him answers about whatever massive coverup they must have scrambled to create for his grandmother Jieun.

No, he needs concrete evidence. Which means he needs to break into the archives, uninterrupted this time. 

“Jongho?”

He looks up at Soojin in surprise. “Yes?”

“We’re discussing weapons safety now. Might want to pay attention.”

Jongho blushes and returns his gaze to the screen.

Oh, he  _ will _ be paying attention. Close attention.

___

San’s hands are so sweaty he almost drops his chopsticks a grand total of three times, but he shakes it off and says hello to Wooyoung anyway. Honestly, he’s more intimidated by Yeosang sitting across from them. Not because he’s unfriendly, but because of his intense beauty. San feels tremendously plain compared to everyone else here but he knows that’s just his insecurity talking.

The group is at lunch before they split up and begin the hands-on part of their training, which is why San is attempting to get on the good side of his partner before they have to go familiarise themselves with the equipment.

“So you’ve lived outside Seoul your whole life?” Wooyoung chirps genially and San is immediately relaxed. “Yes, in the countryside. My village is quite middle class, though. Probably not what you’re picturing.” He rubs the back of his neck nervously but Wooyoung waves away his concern.

“Oh, don’t worry, I won’t judge. My father may be a stockholder in IPF but that means nothing to me.”

San sits back, surprised. He could tell from the fact that Wooyoung and Yeosang were friends that the former must be wealthy enough to reside in the same general area, but he hadn’t predicted the extent of that wealth. San doesn’t get a chance to comment on it before a muffled ringing sound breaks into their conversation.

All around the table, members check their wristbands and Junyoung is the one receiving a call. “I didn’t know we  _ could _ receive calls,” he mumbles to himself before looking up for confirmation that he’s allowed to take it. “It’s my father.”

Soojin isn’t here and Hongjoong still hasn’t returned from wherever he went during class so Seonghwa takes the initiative and nods him on, Junyoung smiling gratefully and standing up to wander away a distance.

The rest of the table is distracted from trying to eavesdrop by Hongjoong’s reappearance. “Where were you?” Jongho asks casually, fooling no one with his apparent interest in the stew he was eating. 

“I—” Hongjoong’s mouth opens and closes as he struggles to explain. For some reason San wants to come to his rescue but Junyoung returns to the table and it seems he doesn’t have to.

“My mother’s in labour!” He pants, cleaning up his meal tray as if he’s about to leave. “Dad’s stuck at work and the twins don’t know what to do, so I really ought to go…”

“Go...home?” Yeosang scoffs. “Didn’t they tell us only yesterday that wasn’t allowed?”

“I’m sure Soojin can make an exception,” Junyoung insists, piling up his garbage and dumping it in the nearest incinerator. “Mother’s already had three children but that doesn’t mean she can have another on her own.”

“Hang on, Junyoung, let someone go with you to the offices at least,” Hongjoong sighs, abandoning his lunch just as soon as he’s received it. “It’s not likely they’ll allow you to go, but at least bring a witness.”

The two hurry off and San is again preoccupied with Wooyoung. The five minute reminder lights up their wristband screens again and the pair hurry off to their classroom. It’s only a day in but the two are in sync. Engineering lesson first, figuring out if Junyoung is successful later.

Both of them focus on their tasks, a series of exercises to help their supervisors assess their strengths and weaknesses, and while the lab coats conference with each other about it in the other room, San wheedles out Wooyoung’s entire backstory.

Wooyoung’s presence is entirely changed when it’s just the two of them. His energy and cockiness are significantly dialed down, and San thinks he knows the reason why. 

Yet, as loath as he is to come between apparent years of friendship between Wooyoung and Yeosang, he really wants a connection with his partner. Jongho tolerating his presence and Yunho sleeping in the same room as him doesn’t quite count. Not yet, anyway.

As fidgety as Wooyoung is, it’s obvious he wants a friendship too. And what better place to start than in the belly of a fake spaceship with the story of his father’s descent into alcoholism.

“That’s when my mother left,” he sighs as he concludes his tale. “And it’s been a nightmare at home ever since.”

“She didn’t take you with her?” San prods quietly. He could never imagine his own family in such a state, a neglectful father and an abandoning mother. 

Wooyoung snorts and shakes his head. “We haven’t spoken since. She’s probably remarried and living the highlife in Europe somewhere.”

“Well you’re out of there now!” San smiles brightly. “You can dictate your own life from this point on.”

Wooyoung visibly relaxes, shoulders lowering as any reservations he may have had about the conversation fizzle out.

“Thanks for telling me,” San tells him with every bit of sincerity. It’s clearly not easy for Wooyoung to spill his guts like this about such a sensitive childhood, and especially to someone he’s only known for 24 hours, even if that someone is his partner now.

“Thanks for listening,” Wooyoung returns. He needed someone to talk to and San was more than happy to be that person. 

San can see it in his smile; they’re going to be great together.

___

Yunho is having the time of his life. Holding a real L-24 IPF blaster is a completely different feeling than shooting fake lasers out of game consoles. 

“It’s so...light!”

He giggles and aims it at the nearest target before Jongho’s hand lands on his arm.

“Careful where you point that,” the younger boy warns, directing his attention to the sturdier line of targets on the opposite wall. “It’s switched to flamethrower fire not plasma beams.”

“How do you know where the projectile settings are?” Yunho splutters. It’s not like they passed these things out for practice in school.

Jongho steps back and shoves his hands in his pockets, eyes lingering on the weapon. “I had a deactivated L-24 growing up. It didn’t actually fire but it was convincing enough to scare the gangsters away.”

“Gangsters?” Yunho gasps, lowering the blaster carefully. He didn’t know Seoul even had gangsters. “What part of town were  _ you _ in?”

Jongho smirks teasingly. “The bad part.”

Yunho returns the blaster to its holder sedately even as he side-eyes Jongho’s posture when he draws and aims another L-24. It’s honestly a little intimidating, but Yunho shakes the thought out of his head.

They’re not here to one-up each other, they’re teammates.

“I see you’ve already started, gentlemen,” their instructor Siwon deadpans as he enters the room. The door slides shut behind him with a decided click. “In the future might I recommend not touching the weapons until you are supervised?”

Yunho resists the urge to roll his eyes. This guy already reminds him of a teacher he had in school. One he didn’t like.

The gunners both acknowledge the order and settle in for an introduction to IPF standard issue firearms. At least the subject material is more engaging than school.

Time flies by and Yunho doesn’t even realise how hard he’s been straining until his stomach growls loudly in the presence of dinner. The cafeteria is even more sparse than it was for the first two meals of the day, and noticing some of his own team members are absent again, Yunho pockets some food and sneaks back to the dorms with it. 

Wooyoung and San are grateful to be fed while they look over some of their homework together at the common room table. Yeosang, too, accepts the smuggled meal when he returns from a lesson that went overtime. 

Hongjoong and Junyoung arrive in the common room just as soon as everyone else has wandered into their bedrooms for the night, but Yunho is faithfully there with the chicken bucket he saved for them to share.

Junyoung eats silently, watches the sun dip behind the skyscrapers through the window, and closes himself in his room when he’s finished. It’s only when Hongjoong collapses on the couch with a sigh that Yunho has his suspicions confirmed.

“They won’t allow him to go. It took the entire afternoon to argue with them, and they still wouldn’t budge.”

“You did your best,” Yunho encourages, popping a piece of neglected chicken into his mouth. Obviously, he wasn’t there, but he can only assume. And besides, if Hongjoong skipped his own class to vouch for Junyoung, that’s all the evidence he needs.

“It wasn’t enough,” Hongjoong grumbles. “But at least they let him call his family. His mother’s fine, the baby’s fine… but he won’t get to meet them. Not until they have clearance to move to the Citadel.”

Yunho snorts in protest. “Ridiculous. They’re really that serious about this?”

Hongjoong shrugs helplessly and makes to leave, but Yunho’s hand on his shoulder stops him.

“Sorry, I was just wondering…” His mouth goes dry mid-sentence and he struggles to complete the thought. “What was all that back in morning class?”

“Ah…” Hongjoong sits back and avoids his gaze. He knows what he’s asking about, but something’s stopping him from confiding in him. “I’m fine, it was nothing. Really, you don’t have to worry about it.”

His smile isn’t convincing but Yunho releases him with an acknowledging nod. “Sure, whenever you’re comfortable talking about it. I won’t tell anyone.”

Hongjoong raises his eyebrows and sizes him up quickly. “Alright,” he decides, leaving with no further comment. It may have been simple, but it was affirmative. He’s willing to trust Yunho, just not quite yet. Not on Day One, when all he knows about him is that he’s unnervingly tall, great at laser games, and nice enough to offer some chicken. Oh, and a bit of a crybaby. 

Yunho tosses the empty bucket and peeks at the office building out the window before tapping it to turn the glass opaque for the night. 

No leaving the facility, even to meet your newest sibling.

It’s tough luck, but Yunho doesn’t dwell on it much longer because it reminds him that there’s something he ought to do as well.

He holes himself inside his room, gazing out the window and putting out a sanctioned call.

His mother picks up halfway through the first ring.

“Yunho!” Her voice radiates comfort and love. Yunho suddenly feels awful for not calling her yesterday. He had been on a high then from the exam results and the whirlwind evening. He swallows tears and greets her happily. 

“How was your first day?” She almost whispers, like her excitement for her son has stolen her breath away.

“First day? First day! I can’t believe I’m saying that. It was…” he’s not even sure what to tell her. She’d probably go into a panic if he mentioned the firearms or the extreme conditions training regimen. He settles instead for a vague but truthful answer. “It was really cool. I definitely want to do this for the rest of my life.”

“Are you eating well? Are you making friends? How is the facility, is your room comfortable enough?”

He smiles and assures her gently, he isn’t wasting away from hunger. It’s barely been a day away from them.

“Maybe I can try sending you some things from home, just to remember us by,” she mumbles mostly to herself before her voice is directed at him again. “Oh, your father wants to say hello. And your brother, too. Actually the cousins as well, and your aunts and uncles. I think we’d better record a video message or something, so many people are here...”

“The whole family is over?” He laughs, surprised. Usually the only way to get Uncle Changmin and Uncle Jaejoong under the same roof is to throw a holiday party. “I’m really sorry I’m missing it.”

“Oh don’t be,” she tuts and he can imagine her batting a hand at him. “We’re together to celebrate you, love. And your incredible achievement.”

Another voice comes over the connection and it’s his father, husky with emotion but firm in what he says. “Have we told you how proud of you we are yet? Because we’re  _ so  _ proud, son. So very proud.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t say goodbye,” he chokes unexpectedly, hoping none of the others hear him from outside and come to investigate. “Mingi and I were just nervous and we wanted to get there early and study. It was a one in a billion chance either of us would make it anyway and we just... we just didn’t think we weren’t going home again.”

His father hums sympathetically at him and Yunho can hear one of his aunt’s voices in the background. “I don’t like all these rules of theirs. They ought to let the boys come home to be celebrated!”

“Shh, Sooyeon, don’t say things like that!” His father chides her and Yunho’s laughing at the night sky with their banter on the phone. “They record these calls, you know, we don’t want Yunho getting in any trouble.”

“Don’t worry about me, Dad,” Yunho assures him. “I can take care of myself now, I’m being trained for it and everything.”

“That’s our boy,” his mother’s voice reaches his ears again. It’s a bit shaky, like she’d needed to blink tears back a moment ago. She probably did. 

“Go make the world a better place, Yunho.”

“Actually,” now it’s Yunho’s younger brother and his voice is dripping with sarcasm but there’s a deep seated affection underneath it all. “Go  _ find  _ the world a better place. It’s about time we got off this planet.”

Yunho laughs heartily and says his goodbyes when the time comes. There’s a warmth spreading in him despite the chill of the metal room he’s confined to. 

Before he can dwell on the good feeling while it lasts, an alert lights up his wristband, directing him to the common room for an automated announcement.

Yunho sighs but obeys the order, figuring he had better get used to this kind of thing. He’s never been so policed in his life, but this is the most serious job on the planet, and protocol must be followed at all times.

Quietly, all ten of them assemble in the common room as a holoscreen lights up above the table. Youngseok is already in his pajamas and there’s a toothbrush hanging out of San’s mouth.

Which means unless he has an obsession with excessive oral hygiene, San has been loitering in the bathroom to give Yunho some privacy during his call. He smiles gratefully at San who points at himself in mock confusion before winking back. Yunho snagged an amazing roommate.

“Welcome, 2118 Horizon Project members,” the automated voice says. “The Project Coordination Council has officially approved the team lists for your simulation Dome training sessions.”

That causes them all to perk up and they’re on the edge of their metaphorical seats while the voice explains. “Report to the Dome tomorrow at 0500 with your teams. Team A: Hongjoong, San, Wooyoung, Junyoung, and Youngseok. Team Z: Seonghwa, Yunho, Yeosang, Mingi, and Jongho. Together your title is Horizon Team ATZ.”

_ Makes sense _ , Yunho thinks as everyone else swivels their heads around, looking for their teammates. Mingi and Jongho on his team-- Yunho must have gotten lucky. It’s a shame San won’t be with him, but Yunho would take everyone if he could. 

A hand taps his shoulder and he turns from the disappearing screen to face Seonghwa. “Hello,” the older boy says, fiddling with the edge of his jacket. “I know we haven’t really talked… but I’m excited to work with you.”

Yeosang, Mingi, and Jongho wander over as well. “The Dome,” Yeosang reminds them, pointing at it through the window. “It’s like a world within a world. Terrain, atmosphere, weather conditions-- all generated to create a mini-environment. People have died in there. Are we ready?”

Yunho exhales a puff of air and turns to face his friends. “As ready as we’ll ever be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, I posted my update a bit late out of respect for the #BLM movement and the loss of life but decided to go for it anyway to give you something to read and maybe take your mind off things if you're stressed :) Don't forget to let me know what you thought in the comments and please, while you're here; sign [ this petition](https://www.change.org/p/julius-jones-is-innocent-don-t-let-him-be-executed-by-the-state-of-oklahoma?utm_content=cl_sharecopy_13534925_en-US%3Av3&recruiter=733751744&utm_source=share_petition&utm_medium=copylink&utm_campaign=share_petition&utm_term=psf_combo_share_abi) to stop an innocent man from being executed, as well as [ this one](https://go.theactionpac.com/sign/stand-with-breonna?akid=s355470..F8J9OQ) and [ this one](https://www.change.org/p/alabama-governor-kay-ivey-willie-simmons-has-served-38-years-for-a-9-robbery?recruiter=933462300&utm_source=share_petition&utm_medium=twitter&utm_campaign=psf_combo_share_abi&utm_term=psf_combo_share_initial&recruited_by_id=5579da50-2519-11e9-b037-755fb60b6807) for Breonna Taylor and Willie Simmons, respectively. If you have the means to donate, [ here](https://twitter.com/ardentlyswift/status/1265742789867982851) is a thread of resources.
> 
> Stay safe out there and let's stand for justice.


	5. Round One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s only the first match, he reminds himself. It won’t be too hard, no one’s ever died the first day of Dome fights.

“Honestly, the teams are divided fairly,” Jongho remarks with his mouth full of honey butter chips. A few precious snacks remain in the kitchen cabinets of their dorm, and Seonghwa has a feeling when they’re gone, Soojin isn’t planning on replacing them.

It’s just after midnight and Team Z is still gathered in the common room, anticipating their introductory Dome visit in a few hours. The other members all went to bed somewhere around twenty minutes ago, but Seonghwa’s too adrenalised to follow suit yet.

“Well, I don’t know…” Yeosang sighs from next to him, grabbing a handful of chips for himself. “They have two engineers and two technicians on their team. You can bet they’re going to come up with tricked out upgrades to whatever they can get their hands on and outsmart us the moment they get the chance.”

“Not if we catch them off guard,” Yunho insists, uncapping a bottle of soju. Seonghwa is tempted to ask where he got it. “It’s probably safe to say we have the physical advantage. Play our cards right, think on our feet, and we can beat them.”

“The environmental factor,” Seonghwa finally says. He’s been quiet for much of the discussion, but they’re all forgetting one key thing. This isn’t martial arts in a school gymnasium. It’s a dynamic playing field and whatever game IPF chooses for them will be equally challenging, regardless of team rosters. “That’s what’s worrying me.”

“Did you know,” Mingi adds casually. “Only 75% of Dome training deaths occur because of environmental factors!”

Yunho literally spits out his drink and all four of them turn to Mingi. “Are you kidding me right now? How do you even know that?” 

“Research,” Mingi shrugs and reaches for more food, completely unphased. “It’s nothing to panic over. It’s 75% of only, like, 4 recorded deaths. A chemical burn, hypothermia, and a couple of equipment malfunctions.”

“ _Recorded_ deaths,” Jongho throws his hands in the air, almost spilling the honey butter chips everywhere. “Of course they’ll only release information on recorded deaths.”

“Wait,” Seonghwa splutters. “Who’s the other 25%?”

At this Mingi lowers his voice and leans closer. “One of the girls from Team REV was killed by a makeshift bomb a few years back. There’s no telling how it got into the playzone but they investigated the entire opposing team and discharged all of them but one, the leader. That’s why there are only five members.”

“Thanks, now I don’t want to go in there,” Yunho flops back in his seat and eyes the exit like he’s seriously considering running for it. “Not if it gets that intense.”

“You don’t think they’ll do anything like that to us, do you?” Jongho asks suddenly, clearly referring to their newly appointed rivals, Team A. He suddenly seems very young to Seonghwa and though the words get stuck in his throat, Yeosang answers for him. 

“They won’t.” His voice is firm and unmovable. “Wooyoung would never.”

“That’s probably exactly what they’re saying to each other, too, if you think about it,” Seonghwa almost whispers, afraid to even let the idea form. “They’d never expect us to treat it like the real deal.”

“Are you saying we should?” Jongho quietly wonders with a tilt of his head. There’s nothing on his face to give away his opinion on it.

“I don’t know.” Seonghwa is honest. “But I do know this isn’t going to be a walk in the park for either side. We have to be ready to do what it takes.”

There’s mumbled agreement from all sides and then the snacks are being packed away and each of them wander back to their own rooms.

Again, Seonghwa finds Hongjoong already deeply asleep, nearly hidden in the blankets and not in any danger of waking to the quiet sounds of Seonghwa getting ready for bed.

He lays there and thinks about his team. They all seem so bright and ready to follow him, and he can’t imagine why. He lays awake until it’s near the scheduled time for the training and waits out in the common room for the rest of his team so they can head to the Dome together. A fresh outfit, a washed face, and zero hours of sleep are all Seonghwa has to go on, but today is too important to slack off.

Soojin is waiting for them, and the A team trickles in one by one as the hour hand moves closer to 5. There’s a closet that slides open with a hiss when she commands it to, full of special uniforms and equipment— everything from sophisticated weapons and multitools to environment-specific gear and supplies. 

At Soojin’s command, the uniform rack slides forward until ten of the basic combat suits are at the front. As she’s handing them out, Hongjoong hurries in, the last member to appear.

“Sorry I’m late, I— you didn’t wake me,” his voice drops as he gives Seonghwa a meaningful look. Soojin has already shrugged off the apology and handed Hongjoong his suit, but Seonghwa responds to him while they cross the hall to the changing rooms.

“I didn’t presume to. Should I have?”

“Well, seeing as we have training together, I thought... Never mind, I’ll set my alarm properly next time,” Hongjoong mutters and disappears into a stall.

Apparently Hongjoong isn’t the best at remembering to set alarms. Seonghwa feels an iota of shame for using his bad habits against him, but he’s never been afraid to play dirty before. If he was, he wouldn’t be here to begin with.

He isn’t proud of it, but he needs to get the edge over him somehow. The two don’t make eye contact again when they’re assembled outside the Dome.

“The Council has selected a modified version of capture the flag for your training games,” Soojin explains while they walk in.

The interior of the Dome is everything Seonghwa thought it would be and more. The glass roof shimmers as it waits to receive one of the hundred programs to display. The field in front of them is just that, a field. A grass plain that stretches on farther than Seonghwa can see.

He knows it’s just a projection, but the smell of the dirt and the slight breeze that shakes the grasses seem so real that he has to tune back into the conversation because he’s been looking around distracted for so long.

“This is our easiest setting,” Soojin is telling them. “As you could probably tell from the equipment, this Dome can simulate just about anything. Hot, cold, dry, wet— you name it, the Dome can replicate it. Even the terrain can adjust to any level we set it to. Treat it like it’s real, because in a game it will be.”

Seonghwa swallows and meets eyes with Yeosang. Both of them are thinking about Mingi’s statistics.

“These are the flags,” Soojin taps on her wristband and projects a holographic image for them to see. They’re each marked with a letter, either A or Z. “Your first objective on entering the playing field will be to locate your flag. You’ll have to hope you find it before your enemy does. Instead of bringing them back to your territory, you only need to shoot the target on your enemy’s flag. The game can take minutes or hours, it’s entirely up to you.”

Seonghwa shivers. This entire simulation is one massive unknown and he can already guarantee a heart-pounding, nerve-wracking experience. “I’m excited,” Jongho whispers from next to him.

“Now,” Soojin concludes, focused on her wristband again. “We have a few hours to spare to familiarise you with the feel of the space, so let’s try something simple.”

With one swipe of her fingers, a full size, military use obstacle course appears in front of them. The up until now silent group of trainees gasps at its sudden appearance and breaks off into whispered side conversations.

“Just like the jungle gyms at school,” Yunho giggles before Soojin clears her throat to quiet them. 

“For now there are no teams. No competition, no battle, just you and the Dome. Shall we begin?”

By the end of the session, Seonghwa is muddy, sweaty, and sore. He feels rewarded that his team seems to measure up well physically against their opponents, and he got a good chuckle at the sight of Hongjoong being distracted by a butterfly and falling flat on his face.

Freshly showered and dolled up for the press conference, he finds himself waiting with Yeosang again. There’s a peculiar comfort in the younger boy’s quiet presence and the way he mutters to himself while tapping away at that wristband of his, it’s almost like Seonghwa’s known him for years.

When all ten are assembled, they’re led to the main building and a large conference room, table and chairs already set up. 

As they wait for the press to get set up, Seonghwa looks around at the others. He’s never seen them in formal wear before and he has to admit, collectively they’re one good looking group. 

There are some prompts waiting for him on his wristband should he need something to say at any point during the conference, and Soojin is already waiting to give them a pep talk.

“Remember you don’t just represent yourselves today. You are this year’s faces of the IPF, so please let’s have smiling faces, confident voices, and charming manners.”

She sits in the back shaking hands and being the perfect company representative so Seonghwa follows her example and flashes his best smile when the questions begin.

It’s just about as boring as he thought it would be but the group goes through the motions of introducing themselves, talking about their dreams and the amazing time they’ve had their first couple of days in the Horizon Project.

Seonghwa recites his practiced story about being an exchange student, learning the art of space navigation, and taking the acceptance exam confidently. That last part is, of course, significantly less true, but the moment he spits it out he can sit back and breathe normally.

The final topic the press has questions about is, of course, the future. The boys defer to their wristbands discreetly for the answers they don’t know, and when one reporter asks about developing new safety measures, Seonghwa picks up the question since none of the others are jumping on it.

“Well, as you know, the IPF takes launch safety very seriously,” he begins, eyes flitting down to his wristband and back up without pause. “We’ve sworn to never again allow or condone the negligence that killed our beloved Kim Woomin—“

Here, Seonghwa pauses in surprise at the snapping sound of a pencil Hongjoong was holding with a titanium grip in the seat next to him.

“And, as you know, we’ve been undoubtedly successful in our new safety initiatives thus far. Though our training time is slightly accelerated, we, Team ATZ, will be putting all our efforts into a safe and secure future for mankind as a whole.”

Seonghwa lets Yunho take the next question and raises his eyebrows questioningly at Hongjoong, who’s quietly picking pieces of wood out of his hand under the table.

Hongjoong ignores him but accepts a tissue from San to wipe the blood off, and Seonghwa’s not about to play a guessing game with him, so he focuses on what’s being said and doesn’t spare another thought for the situation.

The conference wraps up smoothly and the rest of Z team gravitates toward him at lunch. Wiping some sauce off of Yunho’s face, Seonghwa makes a proposition. “We’ve got a week until the first official match. How about we get into shape?”

___

Yeosang’s med class instructors are all impressed with him, a fact that both encourages and worries him. He’s always felt ready to compete in the Dome as long as his job is treating injuries, but the necessity of combat readiness sends him to Jongho for help.

While the two spar in the gym, Yeosang notices that Jongho is exceptional at wrestling. Whether it’s his natural physique or the fact that he’s just been in more street fights than Yeosang has, his instruction is clear and to the point. 

Soon Yeosang is learning how to use an opponent’s weight against him, and by day three he’s flipped Mingi over on his back completely on his own.

“Now, if you have to throw a punch, make sure you hold your hand this way and not this way, or you could break your wrist,” Jongho instructs, indicating both methods. Tomorrow is the first match, and Yeosang is down to the last essential fighting technique he needs to know about.

“Hang on, _throwing_ a punch?” He holds up his hand to pause Jongho in his demonstration, complete with sound effects. “But I’m the medic, I won’t need to punch anyone.”

“You never know what you’ll need to do in a fight, Yeosang. Team A won’t hold back, so neither should you.”

Yeosang nods because he knows this, they decided together to do everything in their power to win this round and make a good impression, but still the moment the summons lights up his wristband just after supper the next day, his heart is in his throat.

 _It’s only the first match,_ he reminds himself. _It won’t be too hard, no one’s ever died the first day of Dome fights._

The tram veers slightly off its usual course from the dormitory to the Dome, and Yeosang realises when he peeks out the window that they’ve gone underground.

“They’re sending us up into the arena,” Youngseok, the youngest boy from the other team, points out quietly. “I wonder why.”

Something is waiting for them.

They’re released into the dark underside of the Dome structure, with two platforms to send them up into their first match, one marked for each team.

Yeosang pulls the straps of his backpack tighter and sends Wooyoung a glance from his own platform just before they’re raised into the playzone.

All he needs to do is his job, and he’ll be fine.

The moment their platform reaches the top, Yeosang sucks in a breath.

They’ve come through the floor of a building of some kind, and it’s pitch black. Seonghwa lets out an annoyed huff and Yeosang sees the expression on his face for a split second because simultaneously all five of their wristbands light up with instructions.

_All blasters have been set to stun for the duration of the game. If all five members of your team are hit, the opponent automatically wins, flag or no flag. Flags have been hidden, and at the end of this message you may find them. The main challenge this round is adjusting to the gamespace and navigating in the dark. Good luck and may the best team win!_

Yeosang rolls his eyes at the cheesy little winking sticker that appears on the screen before all of them go black. 

The game has begun.

“Let’s split up,” Seonghwa suggests the moment they step outside into an overgrown nighttime street. “First priority is to find our flag, and since visibility is too low to tell directions, why don’t we go based off of that skyscraper?”

Indeed, Yeosang can make out the tip of a simulated skyscraper, crumbling with the stress of a giant tree growing in it. This playzone is like an abandoned cityscape, with the added obstacle of vines and other wildlife to trip them up.

“Mingi and I can head in that direction,” Yunho volunteers, keeping his voice low as the sound of footsteps somewhere behind them raises the tension. “I’m betting the flags are hidden in these buildings. What do we do if we find it?”

“There’s an earpiece in your bag,” Seonghwa whispers, already rifling through his. “The three of us can take this side. Hurry, the longer we loiter here the more of a headstart they have on us.”

Nodding in agreement, the two of them split off. Yeosang watches them go and hopes they can be quiet enough not to attract attention. If both of them get stunned and the flag happens to be in their territory, the team is screwed.

Yeosang, Seonghwa, and Jongho quickly fall into an easy rhythm of silently moving down the street, watching each other’s backs, and checking houses for flags. They’ve finished the first block when Yunho’s voice comes over their frequency. Seonghwa pulls them to a halt with a simple hand motion and they crouch in the high grass to listen.

“We’ve found our flag, it’s in the tall building, third floor up.” Extremely good luck.

Yeosang’s finally relaxed enough to smile at the news when footsteps from the other side of the house they’re sheltered next to interrupt the moment. Immediately, he switches off his earpiece before Yunho’s voice asking them to confirm they heard him rings out and gives away their position. Seonghwa and Jongho follow suit, and Jongho takes the initiative to check out the sound, nudging the door open and wincing at the way it creaks.

Seonghwa goes after him and Yeosang has no choice but to follow behind, pointing his blaster in every corner and expecting to see an enemy hiding there.

The footsteps slow just outside the window of what looks like it’s supposed to be a kitchen, and Yeosang waves the other two over, crouching by the cabinets and letting Jongho attach his scope to the blaster he’s holding and aim out the window.

There’s a pregnant silence and Yeosang holds his breath, knowing the shadow is lurking just on the other side of the wall, before Jongho whispers, “Got him.”

He fires the weapon and there’s a gasp and a strange buzzing sound followed by the thump of a body hitting the pavement. 

On Seonghwa’s orders they wait a moment before concluding he was alone. Team A is full of quick thinkers, they could easily turn this situation in their favour by waiting until the group came out to check the body and then raining fire on them. In Yeosang’s paranoia, he even considers that it might be an intentional trap.

Seonghwa leaps out the window when he deems it long enough, and rolls the body over.

“It’s Junyoung,” he whispers to his teammates while they all stare at the boy’s frozen features and then glance at the blaster that stunned him.

“What do we do now?” Yeosang asks in the awkward pause that follows. 

“Take his gear,” Seonghwa sighs, pulling Junyoung’s wristband off and whispering an apology. Yeosang swallows his reservations and takes a look at it when it’s handed to him.

Seonghwa has just turned his earpiece back on and opened his mouth to explain to Yunho when Yeosang suddenly reaches over and clamps a hand over his mouth.

“What are you doing?” Seonghwa hisses as he pushes him away, but Yeosang shoves Junyoung’s wristband in his face and points to the code that lights up holographically.

“They hacked our frequency!” He snaps. “We have to go radio silent, old school style, they probably already know where Yunho and Mingi are.”  
  
Yeosang feels stupid for not expecting a move like that. That’s exactly the kind of thing he knew Wooyoung would suggest. The two had hardly seen each other all week and it didn’t put Yeosang at ease that his roommate had probably been plotting this behind his back the whole time.

Seonghwa’s shoulders drop and it goes to show he hasn’t considered it. Before he can issue any further commands, the beam of a flashlight emits from the tallest skyscraper’s third floor. Yeosang squints at the light, curiously aimed in their direction, and watches it blink three short times, three long ones, and then three short ones again.

“S.O.S.,” he breathes, grabbing Seonghwa by the arm and shaking him to get his attention. “That must be Mingi, they’ve been compromised!” 

“They probably need medical relief,” Jongho mentions, readying his blaster for a firefight. 

“Yeosang, do you think you can get to them on your own?” Seonghwa asks, much more gently than he should be at a time like this. “Jongho and I need to go on the offensive and find the other flag. I’m sure Yunho’s already holding them off, but they signalled for help and we can’t ignore it.”

Yeosang nods and pulls out his blaster again. He knows why Seonghwa is sending him alone. If it’s a trap, at least only one member of Team Z will have fallen into it. “How will I contact you?”

Seonghwa drags Junyoung’s body indoors and gives Yeosang a final look before he and Jongho fade into the shadows. “If we succeed, you won’t have to.”

They disappear from view, and now Yeosang is truly alone. He swallows down his fear and stays flush to the houses, turning and heading in the direction of the skyscraper. The light has stopped blinking and Yeosang can only hope it isn’t because Mingi’s been stunned. 

His hands are trembling around his weapon and he repeats to himself that he agreed to this. He knows what he’s walking into and he’s ready to face danger to help his teammates.

When he comes within a block of the building, he can hear the shots. Yeosang sinks to a crouch behind a wildly unkempt bush just around the corner and checks the contents of his medical bag.

He has everything he could possibly need, and he has his training to use his surroundings if he doesn’t have what he needs for some reason. With a deep breath, he gets to his feet. 

This is it.

___

  
Things are going so smoothly Wooyoung is tempted to relax. They zeroed in on Team Z’s frequency before they even left the starting platform and hijacked the audio in even less time than they’d practiced earlier in the week. 

He and San are following the directions that Yunho unwittingly feeds them himself while the other three search for their flag, which still hasn’t been discovered.

If Wooyoung’s going to be nervous about something right now, it’s that flag. The flag is the major unknown. They’d know by now if the Z Team had found it, thanks to their little hacking scheme, but it sounded like they had split up as well, and that meant there was still a chance they would get to it before Hongjoong, Junyoung, or Youngseok did.

“Third floor,” Wooyoung reminds San as they approach the tallest building in the playzone. There’s a red mop of hair barely visible in the window, so the two of them shelter themselves from view behind a fence and attach scopes to their rifles. “Can you see him?”

San shakes his head and Wooyoung gets back to his feet, slowly lifting his blaster until Mingi is in his sights again. After just a hair too long, he makes the shot.

It misses by no more than a couple of inches, and now Mingi and Yunho know they’re there. Wooyoung resists the urge to smack himself on the forehead and ducks back undercover as laser beams rain down in their direction, falling uselessly on the fence he and San are hiding behind. 

The two of them have to lie prone with how close some of the shots are getting to their targets and Wooyoung realises this is not going to work. “They have the high ground,” he reminds San, who’s struggling to aim his weapon. “Do you think you can get a different angle on them?”

“I can try!” San whispers back enthusiastically. “They don’t know how many of us there are, I can sneak through a back door.”

“I’ll cover you from here,” Wooyoung nods, watching him army crawl away regretfully. It’s the safest plan but any plan that leaves Wooyoung on his own is not his favourite.

Sporadically, and when he has enough of a window to not get his face frozen, Wooyoung returns fire while watching San slip under tree roots and across the street out of the corner of his eye.

There’s light blinking out of one of the third floor windows and Wooyoung realises they must have uncovered the hacking trick and gone radio silent. Just as his stomach drops with the realisation, Youngseok’s voice comes over the comm link. “They’re being awfully quiet all of a sudden.”

“They’re onto us,” Hongjoong responds, voice hushed even through the earpiece. “Junyoung’s not responding either, I think he might’ve gotten caught.”

“Any luck on your end?” Wooyoung sighs, face pressed into what is most certainly simulated dirt.

“No, not yet,” Hongjoong mutters. “You?”

“Working on it,” San’s voice comes on the link and Wooyoung watches through a tiny hole in the fence as he slips into the building. A few moments later and the shooting has stopped. Grenade gas leaks out of the windows and Wooyoung uses the distraction as a chance to move closer.

He can hear Mingi and Yunho coughing from the smoke and expects to see San return with the enemy flag, but instead the sound of some kind of tussle echoes from the third floor and San comes flying out the window, falling as if pushed one story and then hurtling into a tree before falling out of it.

Wooyoung runs to him with a gasp of shock and surveys the damage. San has managed to roll onto his side and cradles his arm while a whimper leaves his lips involuntarily. “I didn’t get the flag,” he grits out. Leaves are stuck to his hair, and his limbs have been scratched by the branches. “Yunho didn’t mean to throw me, but none of us could see anything… I think I sprained something.”

Wooyoung wants to scoff that it’s very possible Yunho _did_ mean to throw him, but San needs help and Junyoung is the one who has the med kit. Just as he pulls off his backpack to look through the supplies, a footstep reminds him they aren’t alone. Yunho and Mingi must have passed out from the gas because they aren’t firing anymore, but whoever is sneaking up on them has a blaster, too, and probably isn’t afraid to use it.

“Turn around.”

It’s Yeosang’s voice.

Wooyoung whips his head around, not because he was told to, but out of surprise. “Yeosang, we need help!”

Yeosang looks equally surprised to see him, and his quick glance up to the broken window on the third floor goes to show how quickly he’s already sized up the situation.

“So do my teammates,” he answers coolly. Wooyoung’s jaw drops.

“San’s arm could be _broken_ , and you won’t even spare us your med kit?” 

Yeosang’s jaw is tight and his eyes are conflicted. He came to answer Mingi’s flashlight signal, and now his loyalty is being challenged. 

Wooyoung draws his blaster and aims it at his best friend.

“If you won’t help us, I have to shoot.”

Yeosang aims his own blaster back at him. “I’m not going to let you take our flag.”

The two of them are at a standoff, and San is too lost in his own head to reach for his own weapon and end it, so Wooyoung and Yeosang stare each other down and wait for the other to break first.

Seconds go by, then minutes, then Yeosang is putting his blaster back in its holster and walking to the building’s entrance. Wooyoung watches him with gritted teeth, but lets him go. He came here to help Yunho and Mingi, and at this point there’s no shooting the flag.

As Wooyoung goes to radio the others, San’s hand lands on his arm. “Did we lose?”

“I don’t know,” Wooyoung answers honestly, expression softening. “But if we did, it isn’t your fault.”

___

Hongjoong feels like he’s checked every building twice, but here he stands in a dilapidated bathroom with a vine growing out of it, aiming his blaster out a window while enemies creep closer towards them. Still clueless about the location of the flag.

“They must have gotten their hands on Junyoung’s gear,” Youngseok whispers from where he’s seated on the tile floor, tapping away at his wristband. “He won’t respond to any of my--”

“Someone’s coming,” Hongjoong interrupts, and sure enough Jongho and Seonghwa slink down the street toward them, maneuvering the crowded street stealthily and looking in each building for the flag, just as he and Youngseok had done with this street.

“I’m taking the shot,” he warns when his red dot lines up with Jongho’s torso. The kid doesn’t see it coming, but the moment he goes down Seonghwa is returning fire.

He puts up a good fight until Hongjoong and Youngseok have him backed into a corner, and he assesses his options before making a run for it. Hongjoong yanks the tripod off his blaster and switches it back out of sniper mode before packing up. “You can handle yourself, right?”

Youngseok gives a hesitant nod and unzips his own bag for more weapons. 

“Good,” Hongjoong adjusts his gloves and makes for the stairs. “Stay here in case others come, I’ll go after Seonghwa.”

He takes off in pursuit but slows to a quieter pace and shadows his opponent while he peeks through shattered windows in search of the Team A flag. Hongjoong needs to find it before Seonghwa does or this is all over.

There’s a rundown shopping complex he doesn’t remember checking before, so Hongjoong nudges the sliding doors open when Seonghwa isn’t looking, cringing at the sound the rusty metal makes, before slipping inside.

The foyer he enters is dotted with wildflowers and Hongjoong can’t help but find a measure of beauty and life hidden in the dead landscape. He begins descending a frozen escalator and finally he sees the flag; standing in the middle of the floor and illuminated by one working light bulb in the high ceiling above it. He barely even has time to smile at its appearance. Someone else has found it too.

The second he sees Seonghwa emerge from a connecting corridor, Hongjoong throws caution to the wind. He holsters his weapon, launches himself from the escalator, ignores the pain in his legs when he tucks and rolls back to his feet for the landing, and makes a beeline for Seonghwa before he can draw his weapon.

With a clean kick, it flies out of his hands and clatters to the ground a few feet away. Hongjoong has only a split second to breathe in relief before Seonghwa takes advantage of his compromised footing and sweeps his legs out from under him.

The moment Hongjoong’s head makes contact with the cement floor, he’s seeing stars. Before he can even blink them away, Seonghwa’s straddling him and rearing back for a punch.

He’s trying to knock him unconscious because his own blaster’s been knocked away, and as the fist comes down and Hongjoong dodges it, he finds himself wishing he’d just gotten stunned instead. It looked a lot less painful.

“What took you so long?” Seonghwa grunts, pinning one of his arms with his elbow. Hongjoong catches him mid-motion and knocks him off balance, taking advantage and quickly switching their positions.

“I got a little lost, you?” Hongjoong reaches behind him into his backpack for his blaster. It’s time to end this struggle so he can take the flag and run with it. Anywhere is better than here.

“I was busy with one of your members, Junyoung, I think it was.”

Hongjoong freezes even though he knows he’s being baited. It’s most definitely a trap, but the thought of Junyoung…

“If you were expecting him to come to your rescue—“ Seonghwa uses Hongjoong’s pause against him, headbutting him and bucking him off so he can crawl over to his blaster. “I’m afraid that’s not going to work out.”

Hongjoong’s breath catches in his throat. His own weapon has gone flying. Seonghwa has to change his blaster setting from stun to laser in order to hit the target on the flag, so Hongjoong uses the three seconds he has to throw himself in front of the target and fling his arms wide.

“You won’t do it,” he pants when Seonghwa stands and aims the weapon, halting in surprise at the boy standing between him and his prize. “I know you won’t.”

Hongjoong is bluffing, and it’s probably obvious, but he can’t get to his blaster and he’s out of ideas and no one else is coming to help—

_Zap!_

Seonghwa fires the beam just off centre and it grazes Hongjoong in the shoulder.

The moment he cries out and drops to his knees in shock, the game is over. Seonghwa has a clear line of sight and a perfect shot.

The moment the laser hits the target, both of their wristbands light up with the results of the match.

Angry tears are clouding his vision, but Hongjoong clamps a hand over his burning shoulder and wills them to go away.

“That was a good game,” his voice shakes and he sighs, trying to make his smile as genuine as possible. “No hard feelings?”

Seonghwa simply nods and walks away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back to Horizon! I’ve been excited to show you this chapter, so don’t forget to let me know what you thought <3
> 
> This chapter’s recommended listening: Howlin’ 404 by Dean


	6. Error: Communication Failure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first few weeks of the Horizon Project have been hard, but sharing a room with his new worst enemy has to be the crown of Hongjoong’s experience so far.

San’s entire arm is numb when he opens his eyes to see the ceiling of the medical bay. Wooyoung’s head pops into his vision and Yunho’s appears a moment later.

“What’s… going on?” San slurs, and the two heads look at each other, concerned. 

“You were drugged and brought here after you fell,” Wooyoung explains slowly. “You don’t remember?”

As he’s speaking, the memories return. He had been thrown through a window, his arm had been throbbing with pain, and Wooyoung had injected him with a sedative to numb him. Now he was here to recover and he still didn’t know if—

“Did we win?”

Wooyoung avoids his eyes and so San looks over to see Hongjoong sitting up in the bed next to his while a nurse bandages a minor burn on his shoulder. He flinches at the contact, but it doesn’t show on his face, deep thought etched into his features instead.

“I’m sorry,” he finally says, turning to face San. “We lost.”

“I didn’t mean to throw you out the window,” Yunho mutters nervously, bringing San’s attention back over to him. “It was just hard to breathe or see what I was doing—”

San places a hand on Yunho’s arm. “Don’t be sorry,” he insists. “None of us can change what happened, it is what it is.”

A thought that San himself will have to come to terms with some time before the next round of Dome training.

“You did your best, San,” Hongjoong encourages with a small smile. “I shouldn’t have underestimated Seong--”

Just as he’s about to say his name, Seonghwa suddenly appears in the doorway and everything goes quiet.

“Everyone alright?” He asks, still standing in the doorway, and when the nurse answers affirmatively he approaches Yunho.

“Mingi and Jongho offered their room for our team to hang out and eat snacks,” Seonghwa informs him. “You can join us if you’d like.”

Yunho squeezes San’s hand once before grabbing his things to leave. He must have been there waiting for him to wake up for a while, San realises. But alas, he’s been invited to a celebratory party and San, naturally, has not.

“Who shot him?” San asks a strangely quiet Wooyoung, indicating Hongjoong, before Wooyoung coughs and tosses his head in Seonghwa’s direction. “Oh, I see.”

They wait until their rivals have left to discuss a course of action. 

“We really should get practicing, shouldn’t we?” San sighs, ready to get out of bed. He’s already cost them precious time, and he’s determined not to be the weak link of Team A.

“No, hang on, you’re still recovering!” Wooyoung protests, pushing him back down. “Heal first, practice later. That goes for you too, Hongjoong.”

Hongjoong rolls his eyes from his position, already halfway out of the bed, before pulling up his wristband and accessing class materials. He might as well get some homework done while he’s down. “It’s just a burn, it’ll be healed in thirty minutes tops,” he grumbles, silently thanking IPF’s world class medical technology. “But if you get the chance, Wooyoung, would you find Junyoung and see how he is? I’ve heard stun freeze can be a bit disorienting.” 

Wooyoung nods and heads for the door, hesitating while his hand hovers above the opening switch. 

“You know, we don’t blame you,” he tells Hongjoong, turning to face him. “None of us knew they’d play dirty.” 

“I don’t blame you two either,” Hongjoong responds, jaw set. “But we’re going to have to think faster next time if that’s how it’s going to be.” 

San lays back on the pillows and watches Wooyoung leave.

Hongjoong is absorbed in typing away at his holographic keyboard and San is suddenly afraid he’ll finish up and leave him alone in the medlab.

“What did you mean about underestimating Seonghwa?” San asks quietly, fingers tangling in the edge of his blanket.

Hongjoong doesn’t look up from his work but pauses briefly before answering. “You know, we aren’t supposed to be rivals forever. We’re going to be one team eventually, all ten of us.”

“You wanted to stay on good terms,” San finishes out loud. He has to agree, because he wanted the same thing initially. To make friends with everyone. To be an irreplaceable team member. To be a success.

“But to get there we have to toughen up and complete this training process. Even though it’s one that pits us against each other,” Hongjoong explains, giving San a half-hearted smile. “We can do it. We just need to be two steps ahead this time.”

Shake off the loss and keep going. It’s what San’s always done, there’s nothing new about the process. He tests his arm and realises sensations are returning to him, even a bit of pain.

“Maybe you shouldn’t do that…” Hongjoong mutters nervously, about to summon a nurse but distracted by a call suddenly emitting from his wristband. “Oh, it’s my mother. If you’ll excuse me.”

So, he takes his call outside and San is alone.

A row of empty beds faces him, and to his left and right are more. Every day, more Horizon teams are preparing to blast off for the Citadel and fewer and fewer occupy the spaces Team ATZ frequent. 

Even the nurses milling about look distracted and disinterested and San wonders how many severe Dome-related wounds they’ve treated over the course of the Horizon Project. Certainly more than a sprained arm and some minor burning.

The whole place is sterile and bright, with that weird hospital smell San already hates and he’d just as soon be out and about, working on his lessons or training for simulations.

All he can do is bide his time, and hope he isn’t falling behind as early as Week One.

When he’s alone with his thoughts he’s right back where he began, the starting line of the race to measure up.

___

Yeosang finishes his can of soda and gathers his studying materials, to see that the rest of his team is already tired out from their celebrations and not at all ready for their afternoon engagements.

They were all excused from the morning class, seeing as how it was the day after their first match, but apparently the exhaustion carried over anyway.

“Where are you going?” Seonghwa jerks awake, tightening his grip on Yeosang’s arm instinctively from where he had been holding onto him while he dozed off before becoming flustered and letting him go. “Sorry, is it that time already?”

Yeosang nods and ignores the giggles of Yunho, Mingi, and Jongho, stepping out through the hall and into the elevator.

Everything about this is conflicting, and Yeosang doesn’t think he can relax and enjoy the victory he’s earned until the whole competition is over and he’s blasted off into space.

He’s thinking about the confrontation with Wooyoung that has yet to occur when he gets off the tram for the medical facilities, and sure enough, runs into Wooyoung while he’s distracted with his worries.

“What are you doing here?” His roommate snaps, mostly out of surprise, but Yeosang is quick to defend himself anyway.

“I work in the medlab in the afternoons...”

“Oh, right, sorry, of course,” Wooyoung splutters. “I forgot.”

“I’m not intruding on anything confidential, am I?” Yeosang rushes to say, peeking inside again.

“No, not really,” Wooyoung sighs. “I was just on my way back from lunch with Junyoung and Youngseok, to keep San company.”

Of course, the conversation always loops back to San somehow.

“How is he?”

Wooyoung’s expression tightens and he chews his lip in thought before deeming Yeosang trustworthy enough to say, “Improving. He’ll be fine by tomorrow.”

Yeosang hates it. He hates the way Wooyoung has to second guess himself before divulging his thoughts or sharing his secrets now.

But he supposes it’s only fair. At least it’s only temporary.

And it’s not like Yeosang didn’t bring it on himself anyway.

When they reach the recovery wing Yeosang is confronted again by something else. Hongjoong pacing the hallway, on a call with his mother.

It seems he’s always on a call with her, and Yeosang’s only ever really seen him a few times outside of class until now, which baffles him even more.

Honestly it’s starting to grind his gears that he apparently can’t go two seconds without crying to her about something, as if that will help, when Yeosang is still stuck debating with himself every night whether he should attempt to reach out to his own mother.

Would she even care what he had to say? She was in PR heaven promoting his Horizon team position, what did she care if he had thoughts or feelings to express and years of neglect to put right.

Yeosang realises he’s staring and moves on. Where all this jealousy came from in the span of a few days is a mystery to him.

He watches through an adjoining window while Wooyoung and San play some kind of game on their wristbands until his nurse supervisor scolds him and returns his attention to his lesson.

The dummy he’s supposed to be reviving dies a dozen times over while he’s distracted, until he forces back the stress of his dissolving friendship.

Horizon Project first, Wooyoung later.

___

The shadow of the Dome lies heavy on them, even in the most casual of situations. A couple of days pass quickly, full of work and training of various kinds, with what camaraderie and respite they could take. 

Wooyoung finds himself trying to bridge a gap, reprimanding San when he spends too long in the gym but also getting along with him while they make repairs to an old engine for an assignment, and keeping an eye on Yeosang late at night in case he drops hints of the other team’s plan while also listening to and reassuring him when he worries about home or the Project or any of the plethora of things that he might be worrying about at any one time.

He’s much more successful in the first category. And so, feeling like his relationship with Yeosang is hanging by a thread after a heart-wrenching evening in which the former didn’t even save him his seat in the cafeteria at dinner in favour of Seonghwa, Wooyoung devises a plan and seeks out some help.

Colourful sparks leap out into the air from the recreational space he and San have commandeered for themselves and none of his knocks are answered, so he waves his wristband and opens the door. 

“Told you to leave me alone when I’m welding!” San calls out, voice muffled by the metal safety mask he’s wearing. The sparks halt as he looks up and sees Wooyoung, flipping up his mask and flashing a grin. “Oh, it’s you. Thought you were Yunho.”

“You always weld in silence?” Wooyoung jabs cheekily, closing the door behind him.

San shrugs. He never had any reason to do otherwise. “Yeah. What’s up?”

“Ah, it’s just Yeosang. He’s kind of upset because he wanted my help with his drone project but I’ve been busy and, to-to be honest, it’s not really my kind of thing...”

San raises an eyebrow. “How so?”

Wooyoung coughs with embarrassment and smacks his lips. “I can’t get it to fly.”

San snorts out a laugh and sits back. “So that’s what it is. I wondered when it would become clear where our weaknesses are...” he smirks and wiggles his eyebrows at a tomato-faced Wooyoung. “Found yours!”

“Look, I got into this project without studying materials,” Wooyoung defends himself. “I just tinker around until the thing functions, if it won’t budge then I don’t know what to do next. And, yeah, I really don’t know which propellers to use.”

“Don’t worry, I’m just teasing,” San reassures him as he wraps up his work and puts things away. “Design is my strong suit anyway, we compliment each other.”

“So you’ll help?”

“Yeah, of course! Been meaning to get to know Yeosang better anyway.”

Wooyoung rubs the back of his neck nervously as they leave the room. If only he could speak for Yeosang that he felt the same way.

___

It’s been a week since the first Dome fight and Seonghwa is still on edge.

He enjoyed the spoils of success while he could but now a pressure to live up to his own precedent weighs heavily on him. 

Bonding as a group has been going well for Team Z, the five of them becoming more and more accustomed to working with each other and covering each other’s blind spots.

However, the other half of their Project group feels as alienated as ever to him. Jongho may get along with San perfectly well and Yeosang might be content to spend time with Youngseok, but anyone outside his own small circle is a threat to Seonghwa. Even then, he’s not eager to overshare with his own team.

He knows he’s being too paranoid but there’s too many ways his position could be jeopardised and the day Hongjoong or even Wooyoung gets a little too suspicious, it’s over for him.

As such, when the command comes for all ten members to report to the pool for astronaut training, he can’t help but feel a little bit reluctant.

Seonghwa doesn’t have to worry about waking Hongjoong up for the appointment this time, since the latter drags himself out of bed and gets dressed without his help.

The attire as ordered by the schedule is wetsuits, and Seonghwa fights the urge to wriggle around and adjust his tight-fitting outfit as all ten of them stand in the elevator in awkward silence. Junyoung says what’s on all of their minds.

“I feel like I look stupid.”

“It’s alright,” Mingi laughs. “We all look stupid.”

Seonghwa and Hongjoong naturally gravitate to the front of the pack, but halt when they reach the rec facilities. Hongjoong is clearly unsure which direction to go, so Seonghwa points it out for him.

“It’s this one.”

“How are you so sure? You haven’t trained here before, have you?” It sounds like he’s poking fun but it’s not very clear.

Seonghwa isn’t sure how to respond so he doesn’t, and he doesn’t need to for all Hongjoong continues to prattle on.

“I didn’t even know we had more than one pool. You don’t think there’s a hot tub anywhere, do you? Mingi would probably like that. Hey, Mingi...”

He wanders away and it’s easy to tell that he doesn’t really want to talk with Seonghwa, besides having this new bristled attitude toward him that only feeds Seonghwa’s desire to go stand somewhere else.

Soojin welcomes them, briefs them, and sets them to work, Seonghwa going through the motions and helping Jongho secure his helmet properly before they’re submerged and sent underwater with a few safety divers to practice navigating zero gravity and simulate spacewalks.

It’s a quiet and weightless world, even being surrounded by so many others, and Seonghwa quickly grows bored. He creates a private link with Yeosang and tries to strike up a conversation.

“How are things with you and Wooyoung?”

“Fine,” Yeosang answers just a bit too quickly. “Why?”

“Well, you’re roommates, I’m sure you’re tempted to tell him everything.”

“Oh no, not at all,” Yeosang rushes to say. Seonghwa realises he must think he was accusing him because he offers excuses. “We get along fine but team secrets stay secrets, don’t worry. Yunho and San are the same way.”

Seonghwa laughs nervously, not sure how to explain that he was curious for another reason, but Yeosang catches on.

“You must be in a similar situation with Hongjoong,” he hums quietly. “It’s normal if you’re struggling with him. I don’t even think his team sees much of him either.”

“A little less chatter please, boys,” Soojin scolds over the comm link. “You’re supposed to be conserving oxygen, remember?”

Immediately both of them blush, realising their conversation is being monitored.

Seonghwa’s thankful at least the rest of the trainees didn’t hear it and focuses on his work.

Practicing an external spaceship repair is much more difficult than an internal one, but Seonghwa has studied hard to keep up. After all, it’s knowledge everyone should know. The entire morning is consumed by the tedious work and Seonghwa’s mind is emptied of worries over Dome battles and starcharting homework until lunch.

He steps out of the shower, having washed away the rubbery wetsuit smell that lingered on him and checks his wristband.

What he sees makes his heart drop to his stomach.

A dozen pictures of his parents, in every context from home to workplace, sent from an untraceable source. They’re accompanied with the message,  _ Proof of the destruction of the documents or poof go your parents. You choose. _

Seonghwa spins around to retch into the toilet until all that’s left are dry heaves and splashes his face with water until his hands are red.

He can only stare at his reflection in the mirror in motionless horror as it washes over him just how deeply he’s landed himself.

When Wooyoung asks if he’s okay while he spoons his unwanted cucumbers onto Seonghwa’s plate, he nods and keeps his head down. He can’t keep sitting here like everything is fine. It’s his choice whether his parents live or die, and a single misstep could cost him everything.

Somehow he’d forgotten the most fundamental truth in his first month at the IPF, lulled into false security by the shiny skyscrapers and expensive tech. If his family is being watched, he’s certainly being watched as well.

He’s always being watched.

___

Mingi has a hard time keeping things to himself. Usually, he would shove his japchae into his mouth and suck it up, but Jongho has sent him down a rabbit trail from which there is no return. Hongjoong happens to be sitting next to him. 

“I was doing some research on mysterious Project member disappearances historically because, uh, I was bored,” Mingi starts off, quickly thinking of excuses. “And I found something that might interest you.”

Hongjoong raises his eyebrows and nods him on, slurping his noodles. 

“Sung Taejin, the Horizon pilot who first landed on Naeng, the fourth moon of Yangeum, didn’t actually go missing.”

“He… what?” Hongjoong lowers his voice and the rushed whispers catch Jongho’s attention from across the table where he pretends to be engrossed in his sandwich. 

“He’s alive and lives on the Citadel, under another name,” Mingi stifles a giggle, so extremely proud of his work that he can’t help but share it.

“How do you know?” Jongho hisses, abandoning the sandwich altogether. 

“There’s an online database full of Citadel promotional footage, for people who want to move there,” Mingi explains. “I stumbled across it while I was doing, uh, homework… and I noticed this familiar looking man in the background of one of the videos. Ran him through facial recognition and it’s him. It’s Sung Taejin.”

“No way,” Hongjoong gasps, leaning back wide-eyed. “Isn’t the facial recognition system restricted access?”

Mingi chuckles nervously and shoves more japchae into his mouth before he says something stupid.

“Do you know the dates for both Sung’s disappearance and reappearance?” Jongho asks, giving him an intense stare until Mingi caves and tells him.

Jongho stands immediately and hurries off towards the dorms. “Thank you,” he shouts back. “This is all really helpful.”

Hongjoong blinks, surprised. “Why does he care?” He mumbles in confusion.

Mingi smiles back at him. “He’s also interested in Horizon Project history,” he fibs. “You know, casually.”

Hongjoong doesn’t question it and finishes up his meal.

Mingi is the last to be done eating, but he doesn’t have Yunho to sit with him and keep him company this time. He cleans his bowl and grabs an extra, taking it to the gun range where he knows Yunho will be practicing.

By now, it’s obvious that Yunho hates his teacher.

“Apparently my reaction time is too slow,” he gripes, setting up some moving targets through a holographic console.

Mingi resists the urge to dig into Yunho’s japchae himself and lets him rant.

“Even Yeosang gets along with that soulless military nurse who teaches him echo-cardiography or whatever. It’s just not fair.”

“I’m starting to think a lot about the Horizon Project isn’t fair,” Mingi says quietly. “But I also think that’s the point.”

Yunho pauses and raises an eyebrow at him. “Professor Pyo wanted you to come here and push yourself. He wouldn’t have insulted your skills otherwise.”

“Well, good for him,” Yunho growls, aiming and firing again. “Because that’s exactly what I’ll do until I can beat him.”

“Alright, maybe  _ he  _ wants you to keep practicing but I don’t,” Mingi sighs, standing between Yunho and his targets. “If I know you at all, I know it’s the lack of sleep and food that’s affecting your reaction time. Come get some lunch before class.”

“Oh you think my reaction time is bad too, huh?” Yunho smirks, switching his settings to a harmless light ray and firing at Mingi’s feet. “Let’s see how fast  _ you  _ can be.”

With a squeak, Mingi runs away, leading Yunho back to the cafeteria while he fires the occasional shot at him jokingly. They would definitely get in trouble for this later, but Yunho was happier than Mingi had seen him all day.

It was a win in his books.

___

The first few weeks of the Horizon Project have been hard, but sharing a room with his new worst enemy has to be the crown of Hongjoong’s experience so far.

It wasn’t all that bad to start with, and he honestly wanted to be friends with Seonghwa when he met him, but some things can never be reversed.

Seonghwa’s paranoia is one of those things.

Hongjoong’s absorbed in some interplanetary flight path calculations after supper when Seonghwa suddenly enters the room, antsy, and starts throwing accusations.

“We’ve only been here a couple weeks and you’re already trying to make fun of me?”

Hongjoong blinks rapidly in surprise before snorting out a question, “What are you talking about?”

“Mingi made a joke that I seem like I’ve been here before and must have been thrown out of a previous Horizon Project.” Seonghwa looks pointedly at him as if he should know why he’s distressed. “Sounds a bit familiar to something you said this morning, doesn’t it? Don’t think I didn’t notice you two chatting at lunch.”

“About old astronauts, not you! Mingi doesn’t have a filter, you know he wasn’t trying to make fun of you. It was harmless.”

“And?” Seonghwa scoffs, throwing his hands into the air. Hongjoong’s never seen him this bent out of shape and he immediately doesn’t like it. “That somehow gives all of you a reason to speculate about me? I know we’re pitted against each other but it’s just low that you think you can—”

“What happened to ‘no hard feelings’?” Hongjoong finally interrupts, getting out of his chair and doing his best to stand up to him. “I can’t believe you’re jumping to conclusions like this. And what is it you’ve got to hide anyway?”

“I’m going to say this one time only,” Seonghwa’s voice drops dangerously low. “I don’t care if you come from a perfect family and you’re top of your class. Some of us are less fortunate and would really appreciate it if you kept your nose out of our business.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Hongjoong says darkly. He’s had enough of this conversation.

He scoops up his wristband off the bed and marches out. Seonghwa can cool off on his own for the night.

The rest of the dormitory has settled into sleep, save for one young member grabbing a midnight snack and then watching Hongjoong struggle to get comfortable.

“Sleeping on the couch?” Youngseok whispers, glass of milk in hand. “It’s that bad with him?”

Hongjoong nods with a sigh and flops on his side. “You have no idea.”

It’s the first night of many in the same fashion.

“No hard feelings” turns into blatant avoidance and sharp words when the pair’s wild schedules do happen to overlap, making every effort not to interact despite living on top of each other, a fact that gives them that much more incentive to argue. It’s a vicious cycle of ignoring and bickering and none of the others have the first idea what to do about it.

While Hongjoong spends most of his time in the hangars or simulation rooms working and studying in the late hours of the night, Seonghwa sticks to the dorms and takes an immediate distaste to the way Hongjoong’s natural untidiness bleeds over into his half.

When sarcasm and snark fall through, Seonghwa retaliates by inviting his team over on nights when Hongjoong stays out, trashing the room in their festivities and then not bothering to clean it up to give him a taste of his own medicine.

Hongjoong doesn’t take the bait as it’s clear Seonghwa just wants to pick a fight with him, but Yunho with his heart of gold comes to help clean the mess and convince the two to patch things up.

It only works until the next day when Hongjoong catches Seonghwa insulting him in Russian (at least, he’s pretty sure that’s what he was doing) and then the two are at each other’s throats all over again.

Hongjoong finds himself on the couch once more after a blowup over sparring pad reservations lands him outside of his own room when the light of his wristband blinks awake, stirring him from his shallow sleep.

For once, his alarm system works properly.

A natural disaster alert is blinking on the screen and he squints at it to see the words: FLASH FLOOD APPROACHING.

It had been too long without an incident, it only figures that one should happen now.

But this is a flash flood, which means emergency evacuations instead of hiding in a bunker.

Hongjoong can hear the others shuffling out into the hallway quickly and scaling the staircase for roof access and switches off the alert to join them, flashing his wristband at the display by the door.

The door doesn’t open.

He lets out an irritated huff and tries again, and again, and again before realising what’s going on.

The door  _ won’t _ open.

A creeping feeling snakes up from the pit of his stomach that Seonghwa has locked him in.

It wouldn’t be the first time he got fed up with Hongjoong’s constant coming and going, forcing him into one place to grant himself a full night’s sleep.

But in this situation, it just might be the end of him.

A window suddenly breaks and Hongjoong squeaks in surprise.

Rain is battering the dorm sideways and water floods up at an alarming rate.

All Hongjoong can do is yell and hope someone hears him.

The retreating steps suddenly halt and return to him. Yeosang’s voice is surprised and muffled through the door. “Hongjoong, are you in there?”

“Yes,” Hongjoong answers quickly. “The door— I can’t open it!”

Yeosang calls San and Wooyoung over to him and for a few heart-pounding seconds, the trio is quiet.

“It’s been jammed electronically, like something hit the mechanism,” San’s voice explains. “I’m going to try to fix it, but you’ll need to sit tight for a minute.”

The water is reaching his ankles. “I don’t know if I have a minute.”

Gasps from the other side indicate that the water has reached them too, probably through the staircase. 

There’s a splash that sounds like someone has fallen and bursts of coughing follow. “Is everything alright out there?”

“Wooyoung slipped, but we’re all okay,” San rushes to reassure him, before his voice turns away, presumably addressing the others. “You should both get to safety, there’s no use standing around here.”

“We’re not leaving you,” Yeosang’s voice retorts, and the sound of dialing comes after. “Keep working, I’ll call help.”

Hongjoong is suddenly very glad that all the furniture is bolted down and not in danger of floating at him, but his mask is back in his room and the hole in the window is getting wider and wider.

A sudden scream from the other side makes him jump out of his skin.

“Stand back!” San yells, and the buzzing sound of electricity follows. Flying sparks and water are a horribly bad combination, and Hongjoong is afraid all three of them have been knocked unconscious when the door suddenly hisses open and he stumbles out with the rushing water.

“I’ve lost connection,” Yeosang whines, holding his sparking wristband at arm’s length while Wooyoung cowers behind him.

“No time, we need to get to the roof now,” Hongjoong pants, hauling San along from where he sloshes through the water and making sure Wooyoung and Yeosang are following. 

Junyoung is waiting for them a floor up, and when they reach the roof, all the other building residents are there in groups, a glass dome extended over them for protection.

The rest of the team rushes over to check that they’re alright, but Hongjoong’s blood boils the moment he sees Seonghwa’s concerned face.

He already knows what he’s guilty of.

Swatting hands away and ignoring the way his voice shakes, Hongjoong marches right up to Seonghwa and explodes at him.

“You— I could’ve... What were you thinking?!”

Mingi senses the trembling of his legs and offers an arm to lean on.

“It was an accident, Hongjoong, I wasn’t—”

“An accident? No, this... this is sabotage altogether! All four of us could have died all because you thought it would be a funny joke to lock me in again—“

“He didn’t lock you in, Hongjoong,” Yeosang interjects. “The door was jammed because I crashed a test drone into it yesterday. It was an accident.”

Hongjoong tears his hands through his hair in frustration and takes a few gasping breaths, looking up at the way the raindrops flatten and slide down the glass roof to calm himself down.

“I-- Sorry, I’m just…” he trails off and lets Yunho rail him with questions about whether he’s okay or needs to sit down, but keeps his eyes on Seonghwa. “I’m sorry I assumed. But it wouldn’t be the first time…”

Hongjoong directs a dark glare at him, which Seonghwa simply absorbs before looking away. 

It wouldn’t be the first time his trust in Seonghwa was broken.

___

Jongho tries to be thankful for his life, and the lives of his teammates, all of whom have already managed to get under his skin and planted themselves in  _ his _ life, but his call to his parents isn’t going through.

“Maybe their connection is shot,” San tries to reassure him, just having gotten off the phone himself with his own parents, safe and sound in the countryside, to let them know he was unharmed.

Wondering if it happens to be a citywide issue, Jongho looks to Yeosang and Wooyoung for hope. Both of their calls have been approved and evidently reached their sources. Even though the two look uncomfortable to be speaking with what are most likely distant families, there’s a measure of relief in their expressions that Jongho craves for himself.

Junyoung’s call goes through, and then Youngseok’s, then Hongjoong’s, then Mingi’s, then Seonghwa’s, then Yunho’s and Jongho is left sitting there nervously while a chopper is sent to pick them and the other displaced teams up, watching an outgoing call fail to connect. And fail again. And fail again.

He wouldn’t jump to conclusions but his house was always situated in the lower rings of the city, and the alerts were always spotty, and if no one’s picking up--

Jongho chokes on tears and turns away, ashamed. He lays, throat tight with worry, in a mound of blankets on the highest floor of the main office with all of his fellow project members while IPF staff drains the flood water from their dorms.

Every time an error message pops up, he can feel a little bit of his faith drip down the drain.

And everything had been going so well until today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are with another Horizon chapter! It was a slower one comparatively but expect more action and more angst in the future :) Don't forget to leave some kudos and comments if you liked it, and have a great day~
> 
> Recommended listening: uhgood by RM


	7. Overdrive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s immediately apparent that this isn’t going to be an eleven-minute Dome game.

Seonghwa isn’t usually one for celebrating his victories, and he’s already afraid that doing so for the first round has cost him precious practice time.

Pulling the zipper on his snowsuit all the way up, he positions himself as low to the ground as possible. His team takes their places alongside him and the firing begins.

It’s already round two and this time they’ve been dropped right into the action.

There's significant pressure weighing on them to live up to their victory last match, but Seonghwa lets it fuel him into fighting even harder.

“Not so fast, Yeosang,” he cautions when the younger boy pops up and fires round after round of stun blasts in quick succession. “We’ll never make it down the hill if we don’t cover each other. Fire when I’m reloading and vice versa.”

Yeosang adjusts on cue and the two of them become a very efficient team, flitting from snowbank to snowbank and giving Team A no chances to take them down.

A fortress is nestled at the bottom of the hill, surrounded by wind blown snow and icy plains that stretch past where Seonghwa can see. With the stalemate broken, both groups are on their way out of the pine woods and down to where the flags are most likely hidden.

“You should head for the lower entrance, it’s the closest to you,” Jongho’s voice informs them through the comm link. He’s been stationed at the top of the hill to keep a lookout on the activities of both teams. “But hurry, they’re already on their way down.”

His message sends Yunho and Mingi hurrying out from under the cover of their snowbank in an attempt to follow Seonghwa and Yeosang, who are halfway down to the fortress.

“Wait, they’ve stopped!” Jongho warns suddenly. “Yunho, Mingi, they’ve seen you! Take cover!”

But it’s too late.

Just as Yunho pulls Mingi back, trying to slow his momentum, a stun blast comes out from behind the tree-line and strikes Mingi in the leg.

Yunho drags him behind the snow drifts and checks the damage, ducking from the shots aimed at his head. “Are you okay?”

Mingi catches his breath and nods. “I can’t- I can’t walk on it. It’s completely frozen.”

“At least the rest of you isn’t,” Yunho sighs before switching to his radio. “I’m going to need help getting him down there, they’re still firing on us.”

Seonghwa groans and turns around, Yeosang tagging along behind. At this rate they’ll never find the flags.

“I’d make it quick,” Jongho cautions them again. “They’ve turned their backpacks into sleds and they’re moving very quickly.”

“Can you take any of them out?”

“They’re already out of range,” he responds, checking his sight and watching the last member enter the fortress. 

“Move a bit closer,” Seonghwa orders, slinging one of Mingi’s arms around his shoulders and helping Yunho bring him down the hill while Yeosang keeps a sharp eye ahead of them. 

“I’ve got them in the north tower,” Jongho reports from his new position. “They’ve blocked my shot but I can see a flag in the room with them. Let’s hope it’s theirs.”

“We’ll know very soon if it isn’t,” Seonghwa mutters.

The four of them enter the fortress and follow directions from Jongho, stationing themselves in a tower opposite where their enemies are. 

“I think I can fix the damage,” Yeosang pipes up from the floor, where Mingi is laid out low enough that no other shots can reach him while Yeosang digs through his med bag for an anaesthetic reversal agent. Yunho and Seonghwa set up their weapons by the north facing window.

“Then get his leg working again so you two can look for our flag,” Seonghwa says, firing a blast just shy of Youngseok’s head. 

“Let’s even the odds.”

___

In the continuing shootout, Hongjoong’s eyes aren’t on their enemies but the surrounding buildings, scanning the area for the Z Team’s flag. 

Junyoung spots it first and smacks himself in the forehead when he does.

“What? Where is it?”

“The turret to the left of theirs, a floor below them. But unless one of you can make a shot at an impossible angle, we’re going to have to get over there somewhere.”

Hongjoong bites back a sigh and returns fire when one of Seonghwa’s blasts lands a little bit too close to Youngseok’s face.

“How are we even supposed to make it without them stunning us?” Wooyoung whines, looking around their small room for anything that might help.

“A zip line!” San exclaims, pulling an equipment kit out of his backpack and then squeaking and dropping to the floor when a laser zooms towards his hands.

“Careful, that could’ve hit the flag,” Hongjoong chides, joining him while Junyoung moves to cover the target. “And we know they aren’t above burning us with the laser setting regardless.”

San nods quickly and unloads the kit. A cable, harness, trolley, handle, extra clips for safety and a metal clamp to shoot into the opposing wall are all ready for assembly, and with no prompting Wooyoung and San get to work.

“You’ll still be stunned the second they see you,” Youngseok points out as he reloads and Hongjoong covers him.

As he observes the intensity with which Seonghwa returns fire, an idea hits Hongjoong full force. 

“A diversion. I’ll make it look like I saw their flag and run the opposite direction while you cover me,” he throws his head past the fortress, towards the icy plain. “Seonghwa will take the bait, I’m sure of it.”

Youngseok bites his lip in concern. “But if he stuns you—”

“It won’t matter,” Hongjoong reminds him. “One of you will already have entered the turret and shot their flag. Any volunteers?”

“I’ll do it,” San offers immediately.

Wooyoung gives him a look. “After what happened last time... are you sure?”

“I’m the fastest, Woo. We both know I’m the best chance.”

“Alright, the three of us will hold Yunho and Seonghwa,” Wooyoung agrees, mouth pressed into a firm line as San gets himself saddled up and positioned. “Wait, wait! Helmet,” he interjects, shoving a helmet onto his head and nodding to Hongjoong when they’re ready.

Hongjoong snaps his goggles into place and hurries down the stairs, shivering. He’ll need to run for his life or risk being stunned frozen in the snow until the game ends.

“Don’t go until I say,” he orders through the radio as he prepares to sprint. “I want all their eyes on me.”

He hears their words of assent and takes a deep breath.

_ Go time _ .

___

Mingi has progressed enough to wiggle his toes by the time the first dose of the serum has been emptied.

“Hongjoong is at your three o’ clock and he’s getting away,” Jongho warns through the comms. “He’s already out of my range.”

Yeosang turns from loading the syringe and sees the moving figure after a moment staring out the back window and into the bright abyss.

White haired Hongjoong, looking like the ghost he is.

At least Yeosang is convinced he is, with the way he appears and disappears at random. He’ll attend morning group class and then not show up to launch viewings for the departure of previous Horizon groups. Then he’ll eat lunch with them like nothing happened but spend the entire night in the hangar.

Yeosang shakes off his misgivings and grabs his weapon. Hongjoong has the advantage of blending in, so pulling up his hood for maximum camouflage, Yeosang follows him.

Yunho and Seonghwa concentrate their fire on the fleeing rival at Jongho’s insistence, but it’s clear after a slight pause that they’ve just noticed Yeosang going rogue.

“Yeosang?” Seonghwa’s voice comes through the comm a moment later. “Yeosang, what are you doing?”

“He’s too fast for you, I’m tailing him,” he pants back, receiving only static in response. He can hear the whooshing sound of blaster fire ring out from the shrinking fortress and pushes on into the swirling snow. They must be in a standoff again. 

Soon, Yeosang is lethargic and lost in the cloud of flurries surrounding him and has to squint to see the form of Hongjoong finally collapse ahead.

He sprints towards him, blaster ready. “It’s... over,” he gasps for air, nudging him with the toe of his boot, expecting to see a flag somewhere in the distance. 

Hongjoong gets back to his hands and knees and adjusts his goggles before turning around and smiling.

“You’re right, it is.”

At the southern turret, San flies through the window and crawls to the flag, legs numb from being shot at the second Team Z caught on to him while he zip lined.

With no one to stop him, he raises his blaster and fires.

The results of the match light up his wristband as he rolls onto his back and sighs contentedly.

That’s some pretty sweet redemption.

___

“You shouldn’t have left like that,” Seonghwa scolds Yeosang in the changing room, ripping off his jacket a bit more forcefully than necessary.

Yeosang pretends to ignore him while he fixes his hair in the mirror, but deep down he’s already upset with himself.

“Well, at least my leg’s already better,” Mingi shows it off for emphasis, but it has the opposite effect of what he intended.

“See, he could’ve been healed and joined the action if you’d just stayed with him!” Seonghwa snaps.

“As if you weren’t itching to chase Hongjoong down anyway,” Yeosang snarks with a roll of his eyes. “Which wouldn’t have mattered in the end because it was a diversion.”

“You’re right, Yeosang, it was our fault,” Yunho sighs. “If we’d shot down San it would have given us a fighting chance. The zip line was a good idea, you have to admit.”

An awkward silence stretches on until Seonghwa clears his throat and faces Yeosang. “I’m sorry, I’m just upset. I know you did the best you could. We’ll just... have to be more alert next time. Get some rest.”

“Hey,” Yeosang calls before he can leave the room, eyes softening when Seonghwa meets them. “You should get some rest, too.”

They share a hesitant smile and part ways, argument forgotten.

As he paces by the lockers, Jongho’s call finally goes through.

“Hello? Hello, is anyone there?”

The voice that responds isn’t one he was hoping to hear, but it’s the next best thing. The landlady.

“Hello, it’s Mrs. Noh. Who is this?”

“Um, Choi Jongho... I used to live in a building you own, but now I’m in the Horizon Project.”

“Oh, of course!” She gasps. “I couldn’t forget you, dear. Is everything alright?”

“Actually,” Jongho rests his forehead on his locker and squeezes his eyes shut. “That’s what I was going to ask you. Is my family alright? They haven’t picked up since the flash flood last night.”

Mrs. Noh hums over the line before clicking her tongue remorsefully. “I’m sorry, Jongho, but we’re down in the countryside this week so I haven’t heard from them. Flash flood you say?”

“Yes,” Jongho answers, feeling very far away from himself. The longer he goes without answers, the worse he begins to spiral. “I was trying to get into contact with anyone... to figure out if they’re alright.”

“Ah, I’m so sorry dear,” the woman sighs over the phone. “If you still haven’t connected by the time we get back, I’ll look into it, alright? Stay safe now, I’ve got to go...”

“I understand,” Jongho nearly whispers. “Goodbye.”

No closer to knowing what’s going on, he puts on a brave face and heads to class.

He could either wait even longer for answers or take matters into his own hands.

___

On the way back from xenobiology class, Mingi’s wristband lights up with an announcement.

_ Report to the Dome at 0700 tomorrow with your team for Round Three. _

He drops his bag on his bed and reads it again, surprised.

“But we just had a match this morning,” he splutters. “Another one so soon?”

“They’re keeping us distracted from the flood damage with back-to-back simulations,” Jongho mutters darkly from his desk, just loud enough for Mingi to hear. The xenologist casts his gaze down on his bed and doesn’t comment, but the idea that the group has become wholly disconnected from the rest of the world is concerning.

_ How bad is it out there?  _

Yunho pokes his head into the doorway, already in his soft pajamas, and asks to come in, closing the door behind him when he does.

“Did you notice we’re supposed to report twenty minutes before our opponents?” He whispers, sitting cross legged on the floor.

Mingi and Jongho go wide eyed and shake their heads in unison.

“How do you know?”

“The Z Team victory party is right next door to me,” he chuckles. “I heard Wooyoung read their notice aloud.”

Jongho snorts and spins around in his chair. “They’re only throwing a victory party because we did. We’re going to be out of snack food if there’s a party every round.”

“Speaking of snack food,” Yunho coughs, getting to his feet. “I should get back. They’re cleaning up already and San said he’d smuggle me some sour candies.”

Chewing some sour candy of his own, Hongjoong crosses the hall to get ready for bed.

Seonghwa’s there in their room, working out on the floor again just to get on his nerves, so he rolls his eyes and mutters as he pulls on a soft hoodie for sleeping in, “You could at least put some clothes on.”

Seonghwa seems to be in the mood to ignore him, so Hongjoong throws himself onto his bed without further comment, diving under the blankets until the sound of a call coming through his wristband makes him sit up so quickly he smacks his head.

“Mom!” He exclaims, running back out to take the call privately. That’s one development Seonghwa is thankful for.

He can still hear a few fragmented phrases through the door. She’s staying with a friend... the house is flooded still... rations miraculously survived.

Seonghwa tunes the conversation out and finishes his set, distracted by the sound of a transmission on his own wristband. He enlarges the holoscreen to read it at his desk in the lowlight and breaks out into a sweat at what he sees.

A few pictures from the unknown source of his parents’ house, and a video of it being drained by emergency cleanup staff.

He grips the chair for support and tries to breathe normally. 

He needs to do something. He needs to do something  _ now _ before the next picture is straight from his nightmares.

Seonghwa types half of a code into the message bar and sends it, following it up with a compromise.  _ You get the second half when I’m in space and you’ve given them protection. Unless you want the information all over the public holoboards… _

It doesn’t sound nearly as threatening as he wants it to be, but at least when Hongjoong returns to his blanket nest, he doesn’t bother him about it.

On the other side of the wall, Yeosang lies awake and wonders why Wooyoung hasn’t come back to their room.

By the time the night is dark enough for the cheap plastic stars they glued to the metal ceiling to glow faintly, he’s decided Wooyoung’s probably spending the night with Youngseok and Junyoung.

He’s left to the now familiar ambiance of the tram tunnel and watches one of the stars peel off and fall to the floor, too exhausted to even be upset.

It’s another early day tomorrow.

___

The moment Team A gathers at an otherwise abandoned the Dome entrance, San has a feeling he knows what’s happening. The platform lifts them into the playzone without their opponents ever appearing. 

Yunho had woken up unusually early in the morning.

“Where is the other team?” Junyoung mutters just in time for their wristbands to chime in unison and the intro message to appear.

_ All blasters have been set to stun for the duration of the game. If all five members of your team are hit, the opponent automatically wins, flag or no flag. Flags have been hidden, and at the end of this message you may find them. The main challenge this round is traversing a dense landscape, puzzle solving, and dealing with unfair advantage/disadvantage. Good luck and may the best team win! _

“Unfair advantage and disadvantage—” San groans. “They’ve let the other team in first!”

The platform screeches to a halt and they have just seconds to take in the jungle greenery and distant animal calls before a hidden Team Z opens fire.

“Split up!” Hongjoong screams and they all scramble for cover, but it’s too late for Youngseok who has already been hit directly in the chest and completely immobilised.

Junyoung looks like he wants to stop and go back for him but Hongjoong takes his hand and pulls him forward, returning fire until he’s stunned in the leg and has to drag them both behind a tree.

He can see San crouched a few feet away and signals him to make a strategic retreat. 

“We’ve been held back on purpose this round and they’re probably already halfway to our flag,” Hongjoong pants into the comm link for Wooyoung to hear, wherever he is. “It would be better to go on the defensive.”

San hurries over to the pair and pulls the med kit out of his backpack. They’ve been passing it around to a different member for each round with no designated medic on their team, but it’s lucky for Hongjoong that San can stick him with a properly loaded syringe and at least some level of knowledge about what he’s doing.

“Alright,” Wooyoung finally answers, his grunts of exertion coming through the radio. “I’m climbing a tree to get a look at the surroundings. It can’t have been all of them behind that ambush, they wouldn’t waste their head start like that. You didn’t happen to see who was shooting at us, did you?”

“No,” Hongjoong responds, limping out from behind the tree when the firing has been stopped for long enough. “They’re gone.”

“Oh no,” Wooyoung whispers to himself when he sees the full area around them through a pair of binoculars strapped to his suit. An extremely steep temple-like structure with four different levels peeks out from above the forest canopy and the rest of the environment is thick jungle without end.

“Keep heading west,” he says into the comm link. “You’ll hit a stone structure and you’ll need climbing gear. I’m pretty sure that’s where the puzzle solving will come in.”

“Stay in your tree and see if you can spot the other team or a flag,” Hongjoong’s voice comes through the radio. “But be careful not to be seen. If you’re shot down from that height... it’s not going to be pretty.”

Wooyoung swallows and agrees, sinking a little lower into the leaves and searching for movement in the brush.

They won’t get anything out of this sabotaged match if they don’t try.

___

“They’ve entered the playzone, boys,” Yunho warns through the radio. “How are we doing?”

“We’ve still got one level left once we finish this one,” Yeosang reports back, watching Mingi wrack his brains to solve the puzzle in front of them while they cling to the cliffside. “But there may be a slight problem.”

“Problem?” Seonghwa’s anxious voice comes over the frequency next. “What is it?”

“Each level locks itself behind us,” Yeosang explains. “If we can’t solve the next puzzle, we’re stuck up here.”

“ _ And _ they’re getting progressively harder,” Mingi mutters, sliding a stone into a gap and then shaking his head when it doesn’t look right. “The last one was a word problem, this is a picture puzzle.”

“You don’t think they’ll catch up to us, do you?” Yeosang asks quietly, chewing his lip. 

“Don’t worry about them,” Seonghwa insists in his ear through the comm link. “Yunho, Jongho, and I just spotted Wooyoung and we already took out Youngseok. Just focus on getting inside that temple.”

Yeosang voices his assent and joins Mingi, scanning the puzzle quickly. “Try this piece,” he suggests, and Mingi snaps his fingers in revelation before taking his advice.

The door slowly opens with a grinding sound and the two cross the threshold then painstakingly climb their way up to the next level.

Onwards and upwards.

___

“I’m scared of heights,” Junyoung confesses as soon as he’s harnessed up and ready to climb.

“You’re kidding,” San gapes at him, unwinding some rope. His eyes widen as Junyoung shakes his head regretfully and he turns to Hongjoong for help. “What do we do? We can’t leave him here.”

“Junyoung, just hang on to me and don’t look down, okay?” Hongjoong sighs, clipping their harnesses together so Junyoung can’t fall. “It’s just like... climbing a staircase.”

“A very steep staircase with lots of gates and puzzles,” Junyoung mutters, but he figures out the first challenge, a calendar puzzle, almost immediately. It gives the small group a bit of hope that they may yet catch up, until Wooyoung stops responding to the radio and they realise they’ve got another man down.

“I have to go back for him,” San insists as the door opens. 

“San—”

“Hongjoong, I’m the one with the med kit. If he fell out of the tree, he needs me.”

Hongjoong grits his teeth but lets him go. There’s no turning back when they enter the second level. 

San makes it almost all the way back to Wooyoung’s tree when Jongho pops up from behind a bush and aims his blaster at him.

Ducking for cover, San tries to balance his own weapon and the med kit while avoiding Jongho’s blasts and scanning the treetops for Wooyoung.

Finally he sees him, stunned and dangling from a tree limb, but at least he hasn’t fallen through the branches and broken anything.

San knows first-hand how painful that can be. 

“He’ll be okay,” he pants through the link. “But I’m—”

But he’s been in the open too long, and before he can retreat, he’s been stunned in the back by Yunho. 

Stunned in the back by  _ Yunho _ .

He and Seonghwa reveal themselves and inspect the motionless San.

“He came from that direction,” Seonghwa points out, waving at the others to follow him. “Three down, two to go.”

___

Junyoung has spotted Mingi and Yeosang at the level above them, already on the last puzzle. It’s uncertain which flag is inside, if not both, but he’s solving the games as fast as he can despite his acrophobia with Hongjoong encouraging him and pitching in occasionally.

“The rest of Team Z is right behind us,” he gasps after peeking at the ground for a moment, and right on cue the gate they just finished is opening again for their three hunters, who open fire without hesitation from the forest floor.

“Just finish the puzzle!” Hongjoong orders, returning fire and landing a hit to Yunho’s leg but receiving one to his in return.

The door finally gives and Junyoung turns to look at his leader, wide-eyed, when he unhooks them and swings away, trying to draw their fire.

“What— What do I do?”

“Get inside and hope it’s their flag, not ours.”

Junyoung purses his lips and tries to shake his head but Hongjoong is already pushing him through the gate and away from the fighting.

“Junyoung, go. I can’t climb with my leg stunned, I’m slowing you down. We haven’t lost yet, we have you.  _ Go _ .”

Junyoung obeys and Hongjoong lets out a breath of relief before unleashing the rest of his ammunition on the three pursuers to no avail.

Seonghwa cracks a small smile when he sees that he’s got him cornered and aims his weapon, not at the fleeing Junyoung but at Hongjoong.

Hongjoong can’t hold his gaze anymore and swallows his resentment, looking away as that cold numbing stun blast hits him in the chest.

Some losses are just too disappointing.

As Junyoung unlocks the final door, his wristband lights up with the results of the match.

Mingi and Yeosang are there with a flag that’s been hit. They halt their celebrating and lock eyes with Junyoung, standing dumbstruck in the doorway. 

Game over.

___

The cadets get three days until the next round. It’s still much sooner than they would have expected, but they’re beginning to get the hang of things. Adopting each other’s strategies, anticipating each other’s movements, and getting more and more competitive by the day.

They’re being extra careful about everything now, so this time Hongjoong arrives five minutes early and does a verbal check of everyone’s equipment himself before entering the playzone.

“Flashlight? Eye protection? Tape? Multitool? First aid?”

All four of them answer affirmatively to each and their leader sighs and nods, satisfied.

“We’re ready this time.”

“We’re never really ready,” Wooyoung sighs.

“And we won’t be as long as the Project Coordination Council keeps pushing us like this. Are they aware we also have an astrophysics test tomorrow?” San picks up Wooyoung’s thoughts where he leaves off. “I could be studying right now.”

“Then let’s get it over with quickly,” Hongjoong says with a smirk, already strategising.

“Did you know the fastest recorded Dome game lasted only eleven minutes?” Mingi chirps from where he’s suiting up. 

“How fast was your victory the other day?” Youngseok asks shyly.

“I think it was approximately thirty-six, from the moment you entered the playzone,” Mingi hums in response. “That would be the fourteenth fastest recorded Dome game.”

“Not bad,” Junyoung acknowledges, arms crossed. “But we’ll beat you this time.”

“Do you think they’ll give us an advantage?” Youngseok leans over and mutters.

“I wouldn’t count on it,” Yeosang interjects with a wink as he takes his place on the platform. “We’re going for the hat trick.”

___

It’s immediately apparent that this isn’t going to be an eleven-minute Dome game.

The environment is a complete desert wasteland, and it’s hot. Obscenely hot.

According to the intro message, the challenge this round is dealing with an extreme environment, exhibiting resourcefulness, and time efficiency.

Whether it’s intentional or not, Team A does find themselves at an advantage when Yeosang’s heat sensitivity becomes a problem to slow down their competitors, and Wooyoung happens to trip over something in the sand during their relentless march onwards in the assumed direction of the flags.

“ _ Ow!” _

“What is it?” Youngseok asks quickly, already at his side. Today he is the bearer of the med kit.

“It’s metal of some kind,” Wooyoung hisses through his teeth, bending down and brushing away the sand. “Hang on, whatever this is, it’s big.”

It takes a lot of digging and probably too much of their water supply to free the vehicle from the sand, but the reward is well worth the risk.

“It’s some kind of desert patrol rover,” Hongjoong laughs with delight. “Do you four think you could get it running again?”

San and Wooyoung simply look at each other and smile.

___

“What are you supposed to do when your medic passes out?” Yunho gasps, staring in disbelief at the unconscious Yeosang in Seonghwa’s arms.

“Their team has been operating without one from the start,” Jongho points out. “You just have to adapt.”

“Pass the water,” Seonghwa instructs, wetting a small towel with it and then placing it on Yeosang’s forehead. They’d taken some measure of respite in the shade of a large sand dune, but were no closer to finding either flag or their opponents than they’d been at the start.

And now they were a man down without a fight.

“I’m going to the top of that dune to take a look around,” Seonghwa informs them, getting to his feet and wiping the sweat off of his forehead. “The flags have to be here somewhere, even if they’re hidden in the sand.”

Maybe it’s his need to do everything himself, but he ignores the protests of his group and climbs the dune, the only vantage point from which he can see most if not all of the simulated territory.

When he sees what looks like a desert rover speeding towards him, he quickly regrets giving away their position.

It’s Team A, and they’ve definitely spotted him.

He fires off a few shots at their tires, but with one well placed blast from Hongjoong as he drives by, he’s completely stunned before he can even put up much of a fight. 

Seonghwa’s face is frozen in an irritated expression, and it makes Hongjoong giggle as the engine starts up again and he takes the wheel.

He gives him a noncommittal shrug and grins.

“That’s payback for the last round.”

___

It doesn’t take the rest of Team Z long to figure out what happened when Seonghwa doesn’t return and the roar of an engine fades away.

“No medic and no leader?” Jongho groans. “This is turning out to be a fine hat trick.”

“Can one of you carry Yeosang?” Yunho suggests. “We really should be on the move.”

The long march continues, but with no sense of direction and only a simulated sun to follow, their flag remains unfound and unguarded.

The rover pulls up to a small palm oasis where both flags are staked and Junyoung delivers the shot himself to make up for last time.

“We barely saw our opponents,” San points out. “Do you think they’re alright?”

“I’m sure they’re fine,” Wooyoung teases, hopping out of the vehicle and giving a pat. “Besides we earned it for rewiring her so efficiently. Oh, we really should have thought of a name...”

Together they laugh and follow the green lights to their platforms.

An hour later, Yeosang wakes up in the med lab, having practically missed the entire match.

His dissatisfaction with himself is at least eased by the fact that Wooyoung waits to collapse in bed and watches over him in the infirmary. 

The teams remain neck and neck through the next couple of weeks, when class work becomes more intense and deadlines to log flight simulation hours are fast approaching.

The reason for so much time off of the training games becomes clear when the next match lasts almost a full twenty four hours. Team A comes away with the victory, but the search for the flags is again long and arduous, and everyone’s ammunition is depleted significantly by the end.

Their round’s effects continue into the next day when the trainees are summoned to yet another Dome exercise, still exhausted from the last one.

Hongjoong falls asleep in the middle of the game while stationed to keep a lookout, so Team Z takes the win and again the two are tied.

By the end of the second month in the Horizon Project, all ten of them have had enough, and Jongho still hasn’t received definitive word on the wellbeing of his family or the state of their house.

He decides to take his issue up with Soojin for once.

“Can’t you check in for me, then? I mean, this is ridiculous! We aren’t even allowed to know if they’re alive?”

Hongjoong happens to be walking past, on the way to his flight instructor’s office. He stops just outside the door to listen.

“I’m sorry, Jongho, I really am,” Soojin sighs. “But there’s nothing I can do for you. The Council won’t open any outside communications for the time being, not even to the Citadel so San can talk to his sister.”

“What on earth do you have hidden in this facility that you’re so afraid will get out?” Jongho’s voice drops as he gets more frustrated. “Some kind of secret science experiment? Do you really think we’ll accidentally slip sensitive information we don’t even know about into our conversations with our parents?”

“It’s not about you,” Soojin insists. “If you must know, suspicious correspondence with an unknown source has been detected inside this facility. Until we get a better idea of who is responsible and what they’re after, all communications are on lockdown. Including yours.”

When Jongho comes out huffing a moment later, Hongjoong doesn’t bother hiding anywhere.

“They won’t budge, will they?”

“No,” Jongho growls. “It’s utterly ridiculous and I’m one incident away from quitting this Project completely.”

“You know...” Hongjoong whispers, already regretting his offering in the back of his head. “There’s another way we can check on them.”

___

“And break literally all the rules, risking expulsion? Absolutely not,” Seonghwa responds easily. “Have fun without me, I want no part in this.”

Hongjoong snorts and rolls his eyes. “I only told you because you asked what I was packing for. Why do I even bother being nice to you...” he mutters before turning to face his roommate. “If you don’t want to come with, at least promise not to tell Soojin or anyone else, okay?”

“Fine, I’m busy with homework anyway,” Seonghwa answers from his desk, and because apparently he’s in the mood to antagonise Hongjoong some more, he continues speaking. “Usually, this week would be Chuseok break, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes, but even if we did get a real break, I somehow get the feeling you wouldn’t use it properly anyway, with your poor time management skills and all.”

Their sharp banter has become habit by now.

“Poor time management? Tell me, who was it that fell asleep in the middle of the last match? Oh, that’s right,  _ you _ .”

“And who wasted their unfair head start in the second round by trying to pick us off one by one instead of searching for flags?” Hongjoong shoots back as he pulls on a jacket. “I think that was  _ you _ .”

“We won that match!”

“Only because Mingi and Yeosang were fast enough at puzzle solving.”

“Please give it a rest you two,” Wooyoung whines from the doorway. “Hongjoong, are you ready?”

“You’re coming, too?” Hongjoong’s eyebrows raise, switching over seamlessly to being kind and tolerant and Wooyoung shrugs. 

“I caught Jongho packing the last of the choco pies and wasn’t going to let it slide. Don’t worry, I didn’t tell anyone else.”

“Not even Yeosang?” Hongjoong asks, surprised.

“He and Mingi are at the med lab for some genome sequencing lecture or whatever,” Wooyoung answers sharply, clearly not in the mood to discuss it.

“Alright,” Hongjoong backs off and slings his bag over his shoulder. Wooyoung heads for the elevator but Hongjoong pauses at the door.

“I can check on your parents if you really won’t come,” he offers, pulling up his hood. 

“How... How do you even know where they live?” Seonghwa asks suspiciously, turning around and facing him.

“I, um, I saw your house on your holoscreen and it’s in the same neighbourhood as mine so I recognised it,” Hongjoong coughs nervously and rubs the back of his neck. “It was your house, wasn’t it?”

“It— you were  _ going through my wristband?”  _ Seonghwa growls, grabbing a fistful of Hongjoong’s shirt and backing him into the wall as he tries to explain himself.

“No!” Hongjoong stammers. “I didn’t, I swear. You fell asleep with it on so I went to turn it off so you wouldn’t drain the power.”

Seonghwa narrows his eyes at him as if trying to see through a lie before finally releasing him. “Stay away from my family,” he hisses with a little more venom than necessary. “And stay away from me.”

“Fine,” Hongjoong huffs, brushing himself off. “Have it your way.”

He and Jongho join Wooyoung in the elevator, all of them keeping a wary eye on the office buildings. 

“Choco pies, huh?” Hongjoong smirks at an embarrassed Jongho.

“My dad really likes them,” he explains as the doors slide open and the three stealthily make their way by tram to the hangar and follow Hongjoong’s lead, strapping into one of the smaller test planes that he has clearance for.

“You guys are my first passengers,” he chuckles nervously, triple checking all the gauges and safety measures before sealing them in and rolling out to the track. It’s technically the first time any of them have left the ground and they’d much rather be doing it with official IPF authorisation, but it’s time to take things into their own hands.

“We’ll be there and back before they even realise we’re gone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for your patience! I've got a lot on my plate right now but I love writing for this AU so I'll keep doing it when I find the time. Don't forget to let me know what you thought and follow me on twitter for other updates and tidbits :) See you soon~
> 
> Recommended listening: Lift Up by WOODZ


	8. Rocket Fuel to the Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wooyoung shrugs and sits back, enjoying the hum of the aircraft and the sweet sensation of rebellion. It’s been awhile.

Jongho clutches his seat as the wheels of the plane leave the ground. He’s never flown before, and he doesn’t know Hongjoong very well, but it seems like he knows what he’s doing, so Jongho tries to relax and looks out the window at the shrinking buildings below them as they lift slowly into the air.

Wooyoung is seated in the front next to Hongjoong, and his eyes are sweeping the city in front of them.

“Look, the power is still out in that district,” he notices the way Jongho’s face darkens at his statement. 

“That’s where my parents live,” Jongho confesses, and Hongjoong turns the ship in that direction. 

“Then that’s where we’re headed.”

In a smooth arc, the test plane veers to the left, passing over the complex silently and seemingly undetected by anyone.

“That’s strange,” Hongjoong mumbles, listening to the radio feed through a pair of headphones. “The tower should’ve contacted us by now.”

“Maybe they fell asleep?” Wooyoung suggests, leaning forward to peek at the imposing tower situated at the back of the complex where the airfield is.

Hongjoong shakes his head wordlessly and increases speed. “I have my flight instructor’s authorisation codes, I assumed I’d need to use them.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” Wooyoung shrugs and sits back, enjoying the hum of the aircraft and the sweet sensation of rebellion. It’s been awhile.

The ship has a hovering ability that Hongjoong intends to use to wait for Jongho while he takes care of what he needs to on the ground before they move on, and Jongho agrees to the plan despite the doubts growing inside.

A few more feet and they’ll be outside the confines of the IPF complex. The skies are clear and it’s an exhilarating feeling, even as Jongho’s nerves are coiled tightly in the pit of his stomach. 

Suddenly, it’s like they’ve collided with something in midair. There’s the terrifying sound of everything powering down and Jongho only has time to gasp in realisation as an electric current ripples through the plane and renders it immobile, floating midair for a moment before leaning backwards and hurtling back towards the ground.

A force field.

Jongho is completely disoriented and aware of only the pounding of his own heart and Wooyoung’s voice yelling from the front while the ship nosedives toward the IPF complex.

Hongjoong’s unconscious from being zapped, and if he doesn’t wake up and take control of the plane, they’ll crash into the ground full force.

“Wake up!” Wooyoung screams, leaning over to shake the older boy in a brief moment of weightlessness. “Wake up, Hongjoong!”

Jongho can see the sky begin to fade and the ground grow closer…

...and closer…

...and closer.

He squeezes his eyes shut.

Just before impact, the plane tilts up and shoots across the complex, just barely avoiding clipping the archives building before hitting the ground hard on the runway where they started.

Hongjoong grunts with effort as he tries to pull them to a stop but their momentum is still too strong and the trio can do nothing but brace themselves before crashing into Hangar 2.

Jongho suddenly thinks about his parents as the solid wall meets them.

_ I’m sorry. _

___

Wooyoung wakes to pain shooting through his body and immense pressure in his head.

They’re all suspended at an angle, the plane having lost its front wheels and crashed into another hangar, and broken glass is scattered across him and the console in front.

He uses what strength he has in his hands to unbuckle himself and fall forward onto his arms before looking around at the others.

Hongjoong is slumped at the wheel, knocked out in the crash. When Wooyoung nudges him onto his side, he can see the blood trailing down his face and decides he’d better not wake him until the medics arrive.

As he turns to the backseat to check on a groggy but semi-conscious Jongho, he spots something in the wreckage behind him.

Something warm and orange and spreading quickly…

“F-Fire! Jongho, turn around—”

Jongho gasps and releases his seatbelt, crawling forward shakily into the front row of the small ship.

“We have to get out,” Wooyoung chokes, trembling. “Before the whole thing blows.”

Jongho looks at him in disbelief, “We don’t have masks!”

“Would you rather burn alive or breathe semi-toxic air for a few minutes?” Wooyoung screeches. “The ambulance is probably on its way, I’d suggest option B!”

Jongho nods swiftly and presses the button to open the side hatch.

Nothing happens.

Again, he pushes his finger into it and it doesn’t work.

“It’s jammed.”

Wooyoung has a hand over his mouth to avoid breathing in the smoke from the quickly spreading fire but tears are gathering in his eyes from the sheer horror of what’s about to happen to them.

Jongho is also beginning to panic. “What do we do now? There’s no other way out of here...”

“Think, Jongho!” Wooyoung urges. “You’ve been trained for this—”

“Not really!”

“—you can find a solution somehow!”

Jongho looks at the hatch for a moment before slamming his hands into the handle, pushing with all his strength.

“That’s it!” Wooyoung cheers him on, helping him strike the door over and over again, even as smoke clouds his vision and pain shoots through his feet from kicking the metal hatch.

At first, it gives only an inch, but Jongho picks up the pace and soon it gives enough for them to exit one at a time.

“I‘ll hold it open,” he yells back as he wriggles his way out. “Pass me Hongjoong!”

His hands are shaking so hard as he tries to unbuckle Hongjoong that Wooyoung has to fist them to regain control of himself.

Just as the fire licks its way into the front row, Wooyoung drags him away and out the door, collapsing on the lawn.

The sound of sirens grows louder and louder, but the three of them just lie there and watch the ship burn down, unable to move.

Hongjoong finally blinks open his eyes in confusion and takes in his surroundings.

“Is this... what grass really smells like?”

Someone is answering him, sliding a mask onto his face and lifting him up to move him somewhere, but once again the world fades to black, the memory of a burning ship dredged up and engraved in his mind.

The rest of the Project Team watches the emergency response anxiously from the tram station and Yeosang rolls up his sleeves.

They’re being carried away on stretchers, and somehow it still feels like a test.

Everything feels like a test.

___

The next time Wooyoung opens his eyes, he’s in a lot less pain.

“Wooyoung, you’re awake!” 

San throws himself at him for a hug, which Wooyoung accepts in surprise as he looks around at the concerned faces of the rest of the team.

Jongho is awake, too, in the bed next to him with Seonghwa feeding him a half smashed choco pie while carding his fingers through his hair and Yeosang checking his bandages. His face is stony and his dark-ringed eyes look empty.

Junyoung and Youngseok both perk up from their seats and smile with relief that Wooyoung seems okay. The digitized clock on the wall reads 4:09 A.M.

He looks down at himself to make sure he is, in fact, in one piece.

“Who put me in a hospital gown?” 

Yeosang raises his hand sheepishly before rushing to defend himself. “I thought you’d rather me than some nurse you don’t know. How are you feeling?”

Wooyoung stretches to check before giving his medic a hesitant smile. “Pretty good, all things considered. A bit sore.”

Yeosang smiles back at him, a full, genuine smile the likes of which Wooyoung hasn’t seen in who knows how long before tossing a towel to Mingi who’s sitting at Hongjoong’s bedside.

Wooyoung notices all ten of them are present, seemingly of their own volition for once.

Wondering what the towel is for, Wooyoung cranes his head to get a look at Hongjoong and sees him unconscious in bed, half dressed and with wet hair.

He must have just come out of a bioregeneration tank. Lifting his hand to his own semi-damp hair, the dots connect that the reason for his own quick recovery must be the fact that he was in the tank earlier too, and presumably Jongho as well.

As Mingi towels off his hair for him, Hongjoong suddenly begins muttering in his sleep with increasing panic. “Fire!” He gasps. “Fire in the cockpit! Somebody... somebody help...”

The head nurse emerges from another room, summoned by the frantic beeping of the heart monitor. “Try taking his hand, he probably needs to hold onto someth—”

“I’ve got it!” Yunho practically climbs over Seonghwa to reach him, but a moment or two after stroking his hand and calmly quieting him, Hongjoong relaxes to the point of waking.

He meets Seonghwa’s eyes first and Seonghwa notices a look he’d never seen before in them.

Maybe he’s been picking the wrong battles.

Maybe Hongjoong isn’t really a threat to him after all.

“I thought... you... you told me to stay away from you,” Hongjoong mumbles with a knowing smile, back to his old snark after the brief flash of distress.

Seonghwa glowers at him and crosses his arms. “Yeah, and then you were in a plane crash.”

“Nothing an hour in the mystical healing tank can’t fix.”

“It’s called a bioregeneration tank,” Yeosang corrects him from where he’s now administering drugs of some kind to Wooyoung’s IV. “And there’s plenty of things it can’t fix.”

“The mess you’re in being one of them,” Soojin contributes from the doorway and everyone jumps, wondering when she snuck up on them.

Hongjoong releases Yunho’s hand and grimaces. This isn’t going to be pretty.

Sensing incoming conflict, the head nurse excuses herself and all the Project members take a seat.

“You should be expelled,” Soojin starts off sternly, directing her words at the guilty trio, who bow their heads remorsefully. “Actually, you should be expelled, blacklisted from employment in any IPF affiliated enterprises, and possibly kicked out of the country.”

Before anyone can ask why, she pulls out her clipboard and begins listing charges.

“There’s the damage from the crash, of course. The plane you took is completely wrecked, half of Hangar 2 is exposed to the elements, and stretches of the runway will need to be repaved. There’s the damage to yourselves, which your nurses and emergency staff can tell you the extent of. But you’ve also cost everyone time, time we don’t have. We can’t just recruit another team at this point, we need you to complete your exams and simulations, and we need to get you up there. Any more of this nonsense and you can kiss the Citadel goodbye. On that precedent, we are giving you a second chance.”

They all wait with bated breath.

“You’ll finish healing and therapy sessions and then get back to school. Your assignments have not been altered and you will still be expected to complete them. Try not to make fools of yourselves while we handle the press fallout from all this. And above all, do not attempt contact outside the facility again. Are we clear?”

They all answer affirmatively in unison and Soojin stands to go with nothing else to say to them.

It’s a remarkably lucky break.

“Couldn’t she have waited until I had some clothes on at least,” Hongjoong mumbles and Seonghwa is tempted to snap something about how much of a spoiled brat Hongjoong is to be unable to think seriously about the consequences of his actions. 

But he doesn’t.

“Wait a minute,” Yunho calls before Soojin can leave. “What about the whole reason they went out in the first place? Will you seriously not consider letting us talk to our families?”

Seonghwa grits his teeth together uncomfortably. Now they’re going too far.

“Not to mention, the Council has some questions to answer, too,” Wooyoung snaps, heated. “Why was there an electrical shield up and why didn’t it appear on Hongjoong’s radar?”

Soojin bows her head before turning around, knuckles white where they grip her clipboard. Seonghwa can tell she’s already been through management hell dealing with this disaster.

“The shields are up anytime there isn’t a launch scheduled, to prevent alien attacks on the facility. It’s not common knowledge because it’s a public defense issue,” Soojin explains shortly. “And as for your parents... I’ll speak with the higher-ups. Don’t count on it.”

With that she leaves, and the members look around at each other, shocked.

“It wasn’t your bad flying, at least,” San tries to smile reassuringly at Hongjoong, who simply sits back against the pillows and tilts his head in acknowledgment.

“Which means technically it was their fault,” Wooyoung points out, lips set in a firm line. “Letting us talk to our families is the least they can do.”

“Do you think we’ll get to have a video call?” Junyoung suddenly gasps. “I might be able to see the baby!”

And by some miracle, he turns out to be correct. When Soojin returns in the morning with permission from the PCC, they excitedly split up, branching off into different areas to use their single thirty minute video call in privacy and comfort. They’re given 24 hours before the communication link is closed for good and the patients are released back to their dorms from the medbay, but Yeosang isn’t sure he wants to use it at all.

Even Wooyoung has a civil, though awkward, conversation with his father. He reassures him everything is fine, follows the IPF instruction and tells him that the crash was just a test program failure, and inquires about the goings-on in the city. 

Yeosang isn’t convinced an attempt to contact his mother will go so well.

Save for the three cooped up in the medbay, the trainees disperse for a distracted class session on microgravity control before a quiet lunch and individual training. Something heavy has been weighing on Yeosang all day, and when he can’t hold his exhaustion back anymore, it takes three times of the head nurse calling his name for him to focus on the lesson again.

“Oh, uh, yes?” he coughs nervously. It’s already late evening and all the non-hospitalised members have returned to their rooms for sleep or late night studying. Just him and his instructor, Nurse Bae, in a side room while the small nursing team puts the patients to sleep nearby. 

The woman sighs and clicks back a few slides on her presentation. “The Q-cell gene is an extremely important deficiency to be aware of,” she scolds him sternly, and he bows his head in apology before scribbling the notes down on his wristband screen.

“I assume in your prior biology studies, you’ve learned about the fungus  ophiocordyceps unilateralis?” Nurse Bae asks, smiling when Yeosang answers in the affirmative.

“The zombie ant fungus,” he recalls. 

“The Q-cell gene is an alien fungus that appeared when humans first made contact with the Quiun species and is somewhat similar to  ophiocordyceps unilateralis. The  disease grew out of the orifices of its victims and controlled its first hosts, mutating their genes to always carry it,” the nurse explains. “It was the cause of the first war with Quiun, as it was mislabelled a biological weapon, a war that ended with an uneasy treaty and constant surveillance of the planet. In some victims, it quickly gains control and immobilises them like it did those first unlucky diplomats, but in other hereditary carriers, it remains nothing more than a dormant gene, waiting to be passed on. This is why our laws prevent those infected from interplanetary travel. It’s why the medical tests require DNA.”

As Yeosang gazes at the pictures on the holoscreen, he winces at the grotesque nature of this deadly and unpredictable illness. 

A fungus that changes its behaviour and spreads genetically instead of through spores after first contact with humans, sometimes benign and sometimes malignant-- how terrifying it must be to wonder if at any moment, your mind would no longer be your own. 

When finally Yeosang exits the pristine lab area and comes out into the medbay to refill the IVs with pain meds, he finds one of the patients still awake.

Hongjoong doesn’t say anything to him, so Yeosang continues to work like he hasn’t noticed, until he’s stopped from monitoring Wooyoung’s breathing by a voice.

“You seem tired.”

Squeezing his eyes shut, Yeosang spins around to face Hongjoong and readjusts his school bag. It’s an emotionless statement, not meant to judge him, but it’s correct, and Yeosang is wary because of it. “What’s it to you?”

Hongjoong lowers his eyes to his own hands, curled in the thin blankets tucked over him, and shrugs. “You’ve been taking care of us all day, probably all night, too. I just think you could use a break is all.”

Yeosang gradually lowers his guard and approaches to check Hongjoong’s vitals. If there’s something wrong with him, it’s not external. He seems healthy and alert. The medic-in-training braces himself.

“It’s job shadowing,” Yeosang explains. “Not to put anyone else down, but my job on this team is kind of  _ really _ important.”

Hongjoong nods but glances over at the sleeping Jongho and Wooyoung. A moment of silence trickles by before he says something, quiet and concerned. “The nurses didn’t ask you to check on us now, though. You were excused back to the dorms.”

Yeosang bites his lip because he knows what Hongjoong’s getting at and he doesn’t want to be unravelled. “Still, I should probably make sure there’s no—” 

“We’re alright,” Hongjoong whispers. “I promise. Wooyoung will be fine. Jongho will be fine. I’m fine, too. You did an excellent job.”

Yeosang’s eyes grow moist and he wants to lash out.  _ No _ , he wasn’t worried. He was a medical machine, perfectly following protocol and treating anyone who needed it quickly and efficiently. He wasn’t emotional. He wasn’t volatile. He wasn’t terrified for Wooyoung’s life even though he knows how risky and stupid he can be, even though he watched the plane fall out of the sky and his heart stopped for a second. He flew into action because it was his job and he wasn’t letting anything get in the way anymore.

“ _ You _ put me in the position where I had to,” he whispers back bitterly, tears threatening to spill over. With that he spins on his heel and leaves the room, but he doesn’t go far.

He leans against the wall of the hallway for support when the doors slide shut behind him and lets the sobs crash through his defences for a few seconds. Hongjoong can probably hear him through the walls but Yeosang doesn’t care. He had seen right through him anyway.

Just as he’s rubbing away all evidence, he hears a comm call go through on the other side of the door. Confused, Yeosang hangs around to listen. 

“Hi, Mom.”

Yeosang’s eyes go wide and he stands from his crouching position to listen more closely. How Hongjoong has failed to use his video call until now is beyond him.

A muffled cry comes from the other end and Yeosang can practically feel the shame with which Hongjoong responds, “Please tell me you weren’t watching the sky. Please tell me you didn’t see.”

“I always watch the sky,” she cries and Yeosang can imagine her trying and failing to pull herself together. “You know I’m always watching for you, my star.”

“Mom, I-I’m sorry,” Hongjoong chokes on a ball of regret lodged in his throat somewhere and suddenly there are tears in Yeosang’s eyes again. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to make you worry. If you tell me to come home right now…”

Yeosang shakes his head imperceptibly, though no one can see him.

“...I’ll do it.”

And throw away everything he’s worked his entire life for? He won’t do it, Yeosang is certain.

“I looked up and I saw a ship on fire,” the woman says after a moment. “I saw the smoke and I heard the crash and I wished I was holding you in my arms again.”

Yeosang clenches his fist. Hongjoong was supposed to be telling her that it was only a test failure, and that he wasn’t even in danger and that everything was fine. Was he really incapable of lying to her?

“But you’re here,” she continues firmly. “You landed that thing somehow, and you know I believe with all my heart that you could do it a thousand times over. I need you to stay, as much as I love you. I need you to stay  _ because _ I love you. This is your path, however terrifying it may seem.”

For a minute or two all Yeosang can hear is faint crying from the other side and the noise of his own thoughts clamouring around in his brain. His own mother wanted him in the Project for her benefit, not his. 

To have seen what she had and somehow believe her son could go on anyway… Hongjoong’s mother has strong faith in him, and it makes Yeosang’s heart prick with longing. 

While the call continues in the medbay, Yeosang sits again and pulls up the messaging function on his wristband. He doesn’t want to hear his mother's voice or see her face, but he does want to say something to her.

By the time he finishes drafting his letter, the sounds in the other room have stopped. Realising he should have made his exit by now, Yeosang gets to his feet and turns, but is caught by the opening of the door and freezes in place.

“It’s alright,” Hongjoong sighs, waving him over to the floating hologram of who Yeosang assumes is his mother. “You might as well say hello.”

Yeosang considers bolting for a second, but the woman’s gentle smile disarms him and he catches himself waving shyly.

“This is Yeosang. He saved my life,” Hongjoong explains with such confidence that it gives Yeosang pause before he chuckles and tries to play it down. 

“No, no, Hongjoong was completely stable after the crash, I hardly did anything. Actually, it was Wooyoung and Jongho who saved him—”

“Thank you,” the woman says warmly and sincerely so that there’s no point denying her. “Any friend of Hongjoong’s is a son of mine.”

Again Yeosang has tears in his eyes. Only Hongjoong’s quick intervention saves him from making a fool of himself. 

“You might’ve seen him on the television or in magazines…”

“Oh, that’s right!” His mother exclaims. “Kang Yeosang? Your parents must be so proud.”

Yeosang considers what to say before giving up and offering the truth. “They’re proud of themselves,” he tells her honestly. It’s a weight off his chest, and soon the thirty minute call is coming to an end.

Briefly, Yeosang feels guilty for taking the time away from Hongjoong, but he strangely feels accepted in a way he hadn’t been before. The two end up on the patient’s bed again when Yeosang decides Hongjoong’s been on his feet too long without permission and the echoes of the video call are shared between them.

“She’s alone, isn’t she?” Yeosang asks carefully, voicing a feeling he’d picked up earlier in the conversation.

Hongjoong nods and picks at the blanket. “We have each other and that’s it,” he admits, and while Yeosang doesn’t pry (he understands enough from his own situation to know how things can be), he’s granted some insight anyway.

“I made her my mission,” Hongjoong goes on. “As long as she was okay, as long as she was happy— then things were fine. But I realised she’d never be happy as long as I held myself back. Even at the expense of never seeing me again, she wanted me to reach for the stars. She told me over and over again it’s where I was meant to be. So taking the exam knowing I might have to leave her behind was the hardest decision I’ve ever made.”

For most children, it’s not even a decision. Setting your hopes on the skies is not as easy as it seems. 

“I think it was the right one,” Yeosang supplies, surprising even himself. “I haven’t known you for long, but I know you have what it takes. And when you make it up there, both your lives will reap the benefits.”

Hongjoong sighs and sits back. “I keep telling myself that,” he mutters. “That it’ll be worth it, even if she has to pick up another job or two in the meantime. It has to be worth it.”

“You should do it for yourself, too,” Yeosang tells him, worried it might seem presumptuous to push someone who’s never had the luxury of studying to escape like he has. “Provide for your mother, but work because you love doing it. Not just for the payoff. Otherwise you’ll just be miserable.”

Otherwise he’d be like Yeosang used to be. A player in someone else’s game.

“She’s your mom too now,” Hongjoong smirks and Yeosang pulls up his holoscreen with the unsent message and takes a deep breath, scanning it over until he reaches the last lines.

_ You’ve never given me a say in anything but this is my future. You can do what you want but don’t contact me again. I’m on a better path that leads far away from you, and I can take it from here. _

He releases the breath and hits send.

___

“I missed the fuel efficiency test already?” Wooyoung whines when San drops an armload of schoolwork in his arms. “But I was out for one class!”

“This is the Citadel fast track, remember?” San sighs, working through his homework and crammed into an uncomfortable chair next to the patient’s bedside. “At least when you’re discharged we can move onto more hands-on projects. I don’t feel comfortable blasting into space without them.”

San knows they’re being rushed through their lessons much faster than previous teams have been, but his sympathy is for Wooyoung and the others who are still healing whilst overloaded with school work. 

If nothing else, it keeps their eyes on the prize. 

Yeosang meanders over and joins the study party and eventually Wooyoung is nodding off and leaving San in the awkward position of being alone with someone he’s barely even talked to all these months. 

“How is he?” San finally asks the medic, who glances up from his diagrams, eyes flitting over to Wooyoung’s vitals.

“He’ll be fine,” Yeosang assures him. “They’re already healed for the most part, the nurses just want to be sure.”

There’s something different about Yeosang, and San isn’t sure what it is exactly, but it prompts him to ask a question he’s been needing to ask for a long time.

“The medical exams we take before liftoff,” he begins hesitantly. “How are the tests conducted? It’s a last-minute requirement before we go to the Citadel, right? So it shouldn’t be something that takes very long.”

“Aspects like physical and mental health, vaccinations, and diet are monitored our entire time here at the training facility,” Yeosang explains easily. “But others like the Q-cell gene test, allergy testing, and last minute vital checks are done with the machinery in the back… here, I’ll show you.” He gets to his feet and San follows. He knows very well the exact model and classification of testing machinery this facility uses, he’s researched it in advance.

Still, he lets Yeosang excitedly show him all the bells and whistles before remarking in fake-confusion, “Oh, I think there’s something wrong with the wiring here!”

Predictably, Yeosang frowns with concern and looks closer for a problem he doesn’t know to recognise. “What do you mean?” 

“The power source could be utilized much more efficiently if you did  _ this _ ,” he turns on the screen after a glance at the security camera (thankfully blocked by Yeosang) and quickly navigates to the system login.

“I’ll need your ID,” San monotones, and Yeosang looks nervous about it but flashes his wristband anyway, mumbling something about how they should be asking permission or getting a professional to handle it, but suave as ever, San swoops in with reassurance.

“It’ll only take a second, it’s a minor oversight that you nurses don’t know to look for.” He accompanies the statement with a wink and Yeosang huffs. Scanning himself when the calculations have been added, he filters out his scan with one of the presets and breathes a sigh of relief when it comes clean. All he has to do next is erase any record of having been meddling with the system and he’s home free. After that, it’s all playful jabs at Yeosang and swift topic changes when they get back to the medbay. San doesn’t think the proverbial cat is leaving the proverbial bag anytime soon.

And then lunch happens.

It’s not unusual for one or two members to be missing from the midday meal with hectic schedules and constant exams, but San is surprised to find Seonghwa hard at work in the gym when he heads there for the remainder of the lunch hour, already full from secretly snacking during their studies. 

He offers nothing more than a curt nod before heading to his own mat and starting basic stretches, but his eyes are peeled to the older boy’s figure, watching intently as he screws off the cap of his water bottle and downs it in one go.

Seonghwa is an enigma. Like San, he has a very strategic mind and a shrewd disposition, but while San has gradually grown more assured in his time at the IPF, Seonghwa seems to have only gotten more anxious since arriving. Most days, he’s the head of his little wolf pack, but today he appears withdrawn.

While he practices his combat training, San thinks about his own shaky allegiances and wonders about the reason for Seonghwa’s sudden seclusion, especially as the older boy clutches his wristband with wide eyes and reads a message that pops up with a chime. Unable to help his curiosity, San just so happens to be walking by to refill his water bottle when he catches a glimpse of the holoscreen. 

There’s no sender ID, only the default “source unknown” banner at the top of their conversation, and with horror San realises that this mysterious source has a message history with Seonghwa.

_ That plane crash fiasco had better not interfere with our business,  _ the message reads and San pales while he watches Seonghwa type out a response with shaking hands.

_ I assure you I had nothing to do with it.  _

San’s heart is pumping furiously in his ears, but Seonghwa doesn’t seem to have noticed him as he waits frantically for a response.

_ You know what happens if I find out you’re lying to me. _

San covers his mouth to muffle his own gasp and Seonghwa looks like he’s going to be sick, steeling himself for a moment before typing back furiously.

_ Quit trying to threaten me, I’m the one who called it in to the authorities. You’re welcome by the way, that could’ve been a major information leak. _

San turns around and focuses on his water bottle, hands twisting around it in an attempt to assuage his jitters while his mind races a mile a minute. Seonghwa had blabbed to the IPF about the attempt to sneak out… the complex had raised their shields and the ship had crashed, causing injury and setback… which is somehow good news for Source Unknown who Seonghwa is apparently reluctantly in league with… and most confusing at all, one of the three on that ship supposedly has information that could have been leaked had he visited family. 

It’s too much to wrap his head around, so San turns silently again to skim the rest of the conversation as it wraps up. Source Unknown is typing.

_ Only because of your own bad acting. _

The sarcasm is useless against Seonghwa, who lets out a quiet but frustrated growl and slams back with a final message before San can begin to question what the mystery sender means by it.

_ We’re playing by my rules now. No more code until liftoff, and I don’t want to hear from you until then. _

He angrily jabs the power button with his thumb and the water bottle slips through San’s fingers, hitting the ground with a loud clang. 

The moment Seonghwa whips around and sees him, San knows it’s over. He’s been caught.

“So this is our mysterious Source Unknown,” he almost whispers, eyeing the exit over Seonghwa’s shoulder. If he sprints now, he might be able to get past him and to the PCC office.

Seonghwa has evidently figured this out, because he carefully moves forward and extends his arms. “San, I don’t know what you thought you saw but w-we can talk about this--”

“What do they mean ‘code?’” San challenges, trying to circle around while maintaining eye contact. “Are you-- you’re selling IPF secrets to someone?”

“ _ Not _ selling,” Seonghwa counters sharply, forcing a shaky exhale before lowering his voice. “They have my family. Please, you have to understand, if I get kicked out…” He shakes his head helplessly and San feels a twinge of guilt.

He’s not one to easily fall for crocodile tears but if Seonghwa is lying, it doesn’t explain his intense anger at the anonymous sender’s messages.

San knows a thing or two about keeping secrets.

“I won’t let you be kicked out, don’t worry,” he sighs. It might be suicide, but it would be hypocritical if he did. 

Still Seonghwa continues eyeing him warily, looking ready to catch him if he bolts suddenly.

“If it makes you feel less suspicious of me telling; I have a secret too,” San tells him, against his better judgement. He makes sure Seonghwa is listening and that there are no cameras pointed in their direction before explaining. “The Q-cell gene, it skipped my sister but infected me.”

Seonghwa’s eyes blow wide and this time San reaches out to grip his arm, afraid he’s just made an enormous mistake. “But… there’s a law keeping that sickness on Earth, you shouldn’t be allowed on the Citadel. How…?”

“My record was already altered, and they don’t test for it until our medical evaluations before liftoff,” San answers simply, tilting his head and letting Seonghwa fill in the gaps with his common sense. “You have to understand, there’s no way I’m throwing away all the work I did to get here.”

Seonghwa pulls his arm away slowly and levels him with a scrutinous gaze. For a moment they simply size each other up. “It’s dormant then?” He asks for confirmation. “You wouldn’t be a danger to anyone in the crew, or to yourself?”

San nods assuredly. “If it wasn’t, I’d probably have died already.” Seonghwa seems decided when he straightens up and fetches his things, swinging his bag over his shoulder.

“Your secret’s safe with me,” he promises on his way out. “As long as mine is safe with you.” 

___

Since the crash, the training time has only increased. As worried as Mingi is about the recovery of their hospitalized members, he’s busy enough with the work loading him down. Christmas Day is set as their tentative liftoff date, with their final evaluations taking place a week prior. Each day subsequently is the next in a series of scenarios attempting to acclimate them to spaceship life. 

Things are changing, even among the members themselves. Ever since the crash, the lines between them have been blurred. They’re more connected, as they should be, even though it’s the electric kind of connection that can be dangerous if left alone.

When Jongho tells him Soojin thinks there’s a mole on the team after underwater training, Mingi is shocked and confused. “Why are you telling me this?” He asks as his mind inevitably attempts to work out the likelihood of each suspect. 

Jongho chuckles dryly, shaking his head. “I don’t know.” And that’s the last Mingi hears about it.

It doesn’t take long for all ten to be back on their feet, and the moment they are, they’re thrown into an afternoon Dome battle. With each round, the arena looks more and more like real places in IPF territory, other planets and space stations Mingi has only seen on screens until now.

Team Z takes a victory in the round that takes place in an electrical maze thanks to Youngseok’s suit catching on fire when the engineers were separated from him. Though Hongjoong managed to put it out, Seonghwa got to their flag first and the team’s efforts didn’t get them a win until the next round.

The arena the following week is a tall cylindrical station, almost completely depleted of oxygen as an extra challenge and, even though they’re careful, a stray laser beam leaves a hole in Seonghwa’s suit and Yeosang volunteers to share his air with him when he begins to struggle and panic, effectively taking both out of the game and allowing Team A to win. As impressed as he is with Yeosang’s quick thinking, Mingi’s terror remains through the night as he lies awake and asks himself why he wasn’t quick enough to be helpful too. 

Yunho and Jongho tag team and claim the flag the second to last round thanks to Team A’s blunder once again, attempting to crawl through steaming pipes in the bronze jungle that vaguely resembled a massive boiler room without accounting for San’s fear of being cramped in small spaces. 

As hard as he tries not to be, Mingi is becoming jealous of even his own teammates. 

In the midst of blowups left and right, especially between the rival team leaders, hardly anyone sits together in the cafeteria at lunch anymore. Mingi takes the opportunity to chat with Yunho one-on-one a few hours before the final Dome battle while they finish their barbecue and transition to studying.

“Do you think I’m the weak link?”

Yunho is shocked and freezes for a second before quickly reassuring him, “No, of course not! We wouldn’t have won round three without your puzzle-solving skills. And you signalled for help back in the first round-- you’re an asset to the team! Who told you otherwise?”

Mingi appreciates his best friend’s willingness to go to bat for him but isn’t convinced of the truth of his words. “You and Jongho are such good fighters. Seonghwa too, plus he’s a great strategist. And, of course, where would we be without our medic, Yeosang? I just feel like dead weight is all.”

Yunho sets aside his books and shakes his head adamantly. “I know it seems insignificant, but you’re the centre of our team, Mingi. When we lose, you’re the first one encouraging us and telling us we did well. If someone is tired or upset, you’re there to give them energy and cheer them up. We wouldn’t be the same team without you either, even if you haven’t gotten the best chance to prove yourself yet.”

And when Mingi takes a second to consider it, he realises he has a point. Xenology is an incredibly vital field, one Mingi is dedicated to, and when he reaches the Citadel it won’t matter whether he was behind the blaster in the arena or not.

“But, hey,” Yunho compromises, standing and nodding in the direction of the gun range. “Some practice will make you feel better in no time. I can give you some pointers.”

Mingi sighs in embarrassment but follows his lead, and it’s just like old times. Things are changing, hopefully for the better, but the two of them- they’re still the same. 

Their focus is disturbed an hour and a half later by a wristband notification for all personnel to report to the hangars. Though Mingi is prudent and up-to-date with the goings on at IPF, it appears Hongjoong isn’t as he appears pale and unnerved when the two collide in the main viewing bay.

“There wasn’t a launch on the schedule…”

“Oh, they moved it up from next week,” Mingi informs him distractedly, watching Team SVT march out to the rocket, all suited up for the Citadel, through the glass panes and on the screens littered across the room. “It’s not a big deal, though, you can study later.”

Hongjoong just shakes his head and barrels past him, leaving the room before his hyperventilating gets out of hand. Mingi wants to follow, but Yunho is pulling him forward to the window where Wooyoung and San are waving animatedly.

Seonghwa is too curious for his own good and follows Hongjoong at a distance back to the dorms as the engines ignite outside. 

There he is, curled up on his bed with his hands over his ears, like just pretending the problem doesn’t exist will make it go away somehow.

“What’s wrong?” Seonghwa asks, fully aware that he’ll probably be rejected.

Hongjoong notices his presence and gets to his feet to leave. Seonghwa is blocking his path again, so he parks himself in front of him and grits through his teeth, “I’m not talking to you.”

But he makes no effort to go around him either.

“You don’t have to,” Seonghwa shrugs with that air of nonchalance he knows Hongjoong hates. “But if you have some sort of problem with spaceships, maybe I need to remind you it’ll be your job to fly one soon.”

For once, it’s just an observation, not a calculated statement meant to wriggle under the other’s skin, but Hongjoong has become too jaded to see that.

“You don’t need to remind me,” he barks out a mirthless laugh and returns to his bed. The ship has gone above the clouds and while Hongjoong’s definitely still on edge, part of him seems to calm down now that it’s out of sight.

Instead, he mills about the room, pretending Seonghwa isn’t there. That much, he’s used to, but he still wants answers. “If you won’t confide in me, you really ought to confide in someone. Secrets between a crew are—”

“Secrets?” Hongjoong mutters to himself, just loud enough that Seonghwa can hear it. “Oh, you’re one to talk.”

Seonghwa plops onto his bed and sits on his hands again as his jaw tightens, but he forces himself to relax. Hongjoong’s trying to get him to blow up, he’s trying to get him to leave him alone.

“I know you think I don’t care,” he presses on. “But if I did anything to offend you and didn’t know about it...”

_ It’s too little too late, Seonghwa, _ he scolds himself mentally.  _ You should’ve cared earlier, when he needed you to. _

“You kind of did,” Hongjoong finally turns to face him, both pain and anger radiating off him. “When you insulted my father on live television for the whole world to see.”

Seonghwa thinks back to what he said at the press conference that day.

_ We’ve sworn never again to allow or condone the negligence that killed our beloved Kim Woomin... _

Father...

Hongjoong has only really spoken to and about his mother. Seonghwa eventually wrote it off as a broken family situation to explain Hongjoong’s annoyance at his “perfect childhood” diagnosis, but come to think of it...

“He died,” Hongjoong finally supplies, his anger finally spent as he sinks into a chair, exhausted. “On the same ship crash that killed IPF Founder Kim Woomin. He was the pilot. And it was in  _ no way _ his fault that the spaceship blew up.”

There’s an awkward silence again and Seonghwa wonders what he’s supposed to say next.

“He was the best pilot Kim could ask for,” Hongjoong insists before Seonghwa can ask how he’s so sure. “He would never have caused an accident.”

Plenty of people have probably tried to gently convince Hongjoong that his love for his father might be clouding his judgement, but Seonghwa has no desire to be one of them.

“I see,” he finally says. “I’m sorry.” And then he’s not sure what else to say.

Hongjoong simply bows his head for a moment and then gets up to change. Seonghwa follows suit.

The air is in no way perfectly cleared between them, but Seonghwa feels a bit better about the final battle they’re both about to be thrown into knowing he has the truth.

His own secrets are not the type that should be corked open for cathartic release, but at least he apologised to Hongjoong and extinguished their dangerously out of control fire.

That’s a first step towards... something.  _ Not-hate _ , Seonghwa decides. _ We don’t hate each other. That’s where we are. _

Hongjoong suddenly groans from his side of the room, and this time Seonghwa knows it isn’t meant for him. “I was supposed to confide in Yunho first.”

Without thinking, Seonghwa smiles, because one thing they can all agree on is that Yunho is a kind and attentive listener, but before he can respond another alert lights up both their wristbands with the words they’ve all been anticipating with equal parts excitement and dread.

_ Report to the Dome at 1700 with your teams for the Final Round. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So after leaving you know a cliffhanger since September, I’m back 😭 And im back with almost 8k words to thank you for your patience <3 I’ve finally finished exams and such so I should be working on this more frequently- stay tuned! Don’t forget to let me know what you thought and follow me on twt for more random stuff :) see you soon~
> 
> Recommended Listening: Cold View by SAAY


	9. Xeno 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fighting on two fronts is doubly exhausting, especially when the simulated enemies are firing real shots.

No matter how hard she stares, Soojin can’t find a weakness. None of the Project team members wears a guilty face and the unknown signature hasn’t yet been traced to any of their wristbands.

The security camera screen in front of her shows all ten of the trainees making their way onto the trams for their final Dome battle. Both respective leaders look composed but Soojin can tell they’re nervous. This is their last chance to prove they deserve the position.

“Who has a motive?” Her secretary Jiho tries to be helpful from where she sits next to her, enjoying a kimbap box for an early dinner.

“Too many of them,” Soojin sighs, sitting back and rubbing her eyes. “Initially my suspicions were directed at Choi Jongho. I looked into it and his grandmother is Choi Jieun.”

“You think he’s looking for her?” Jiho asks, surprised. 

“If he is, he doesn’t have anything. He came to me before the crash, frustrated about the communications lockdown.” Unconvinced with such little evidence, Soojin pulls up a different file.

“Choi San? He wouldn’t jeopardise Haneul’s position,” Jiho scoffs. “Unless she’s the one who leaked confidential information?”

Again Soojin shakes her head. “She was reassigned to a different position before the exam. It’s unlikely within the time frame, but I’ll keep my eye on it.”

“Who else?” Jiho asks with her mouth full.

“Kim Hongjoong,” Soojin goes on. “His father was killed in the Kim Woomin crash and then blamed for negligence by the board- not our brightest moment, I’ll admit- but it gives him incentive. Not to mention the test plane incident.”

“Well that’s not helping you narrow it down,” Jiho groans in frustration. “Who isn’t suspicious?”

“Junyoung, Youngseok, and Seonghwa. So far they all seem perfect. Almost too perfect in Seonghwa’s case. Especially since I gave the Moscow regional office a call and they have no record of his attendance at the exam.”

Jiho blanches and lowers her chopsticks before laughing nervously.

“They’re teenagers. How bad could they be?”

“Jung Wooyoung,” Soojin deadpans, pulling up his file. “He’s known to the system for showing up in places he shouldn’t be. Not to mention we know Kang Yeosang’s mother has made shady deals in the past. I’ve also caught Song Mingi lurking near the archives on cams. And he’s childhood friends with Jung Yunho so that puts both of them on my radar.”

“Alright, what if it’s multiple?” Jiho posits. “You said yourself several of the boys knew each other prior to acceptance. Do you think they could all be in on this?”

“What are the chances of all of them passing if they planned to extract information from us earlier? Their test results speak for themselves, they deserve to be here.” Soojin counters, and Jiho tilts her head in acknowledgement.

“It is a bit far fetched. Still, with their launch coming up, what can you even do about it?”

“That’s what’s worrying me,” Soojin concludes, exiting the member profiles and reapplying her lipstick. She’s due in the Project Coordination Council meeting room for a live viewing of the round. It’s time to make some final decisions. “We don’t have the time or resources to take a chance. Ultimately, the Citadel will have to handle it.”

There’s enough pressure from the PCC to make sure the team is properly trained, vetting them based on loosely founded suspicions is just too much to ask of her.

“Well, either way,” Jiho shrugs and packs away her now empty box, pulling up the cams again and settling in. “This final round will be one to remember.”

___

  
It’s just after noon in the middle of July, the year 2110, and the sun is scorching hot with not a cloud in the sky.

The light blazes off the shining form of the spaceship prepared for launch. The last of the KQ-196 class before the next series of starships begins.

“It’s a little hot but perfect for flying,” Hongjoong’s father tells him as the two of them and Mom step off the tram and into the lobby of IPF headquarters. It’s the most spectacular place he’s ever seen, and his parents take pleasure in his awed expression. “Are you sure you don’t want to change your mind and be a pilot?”

Dad’s been asking him that all year.

Hongjoong laughs and bumps into him playfully. “There’s more of a need for navigators now. Besides, what if I’m not good at flying?”

“Hongjoong, I’m sure you’d be great at anything you try. You’re a very hard worker, I know you’ve got it in you,” Dad tells him seriously before leading them to a sitting area. “Now, I’m going to go check in so we can start pre-launch. You look around and buy some snacks, then you and your mother can watch from the office viewing room, alright?”

Mother goes to order lunch from the service bot floating near them and Hongjoong lets his father squeeze him into one last hug.

“You’ll be back before Chuseok, right?” His voice is muffled in Dad’s freshly cleaned uniform— smelling like that slightly citrusy detergent they always use— but the hummed reply echoes through both of them.

“Yes, as soon as we get the old man settled and they clear me to return. It’ll only be a few months, I promise.”

Mom is carrying back a food tray and gives her husband a kiss before he leaves, his shadow stretching in front of him as soon as he turns his back after a bright smile and an enthusiastic wave.

He’s off to restricted areas, where he’ll work on last minute safety checks with the fifteen other people flying with CEO Kim Woomin to the Citadel until it’s time for the evening launch, one that will be aired for the world to see as the founder of the IPF steps off the Earth for the last time.

The light through the glass roof is refracted into a little rainbow next to his departing form, and Hongjoong notices how picturesque it looks. It’s not the first time Dad has flown to the Citadel, there’s no reason to believe it’ll be the last.

He spends the waiting time exploring the lobby and playing games on his wristband. 

As momentous as the occasion is, it’s nothing Hongjoong hasn’t seen before from the television screen at home and it takes a lot of effort to sit quietly until he and his mother are summoned to the offices.

It took half a lifetime of work for his father to become part of the CEO’s personal team, and the pressure that comes with his position is extended to his family as well. Hongjoong is on his best behaviour as the launch begins.

A meticulously put together staff member arrives to bring them upstairs, swiping her wristband outside the elevator and standing with perfect straight posture all the way until they reach the 215th floor.

They’re brought to the window along with several other families to spectate, and as the radio feed runs through the speakers, all the big words go over Hongjoong’s head while he fixes his eyes on the massive, sleek rocket.

It looks so much bigger up close.

He can hear his father’s voice confirming things for the control officers and finally the countdown begins. Hongjoong’s heart flutters with each chanted number. 

The rest of the room cheers at liftoff, and the engines flare to life, lifting the ship to smoothly pass above the skyscrapers while Hongjoong traces it with his eyes.

It’s in the air for approximately ten seconds before the explosion.

Smoke billows behind it, and the bulletproof windows of the office rattle but don’t give to the debris pluming outward as it falls out of the sky and crashes down.

The entire launch pad is engulfed in flames on impact and Hongjoong’s shocked gasp gives way to panicked yelling. He can hear the commotion of the others in the room reacting as well but his eyes are on the wreckage, searching for the emergency medical team that should be out there by now.

There was a chance Dad had survived the crash... he could still be trapped in there... he  _ has _ to be alive in there.

Hongjoong turns to the officers in the room and cries at them to help, to get out there and _ do something _ , but they’re focused on helping one of the other wives who’s passed out on the floor. As he shifts his gaze to the door, he realises maybe they weren’t helping her.

One of the staff members is coming at him with a syringe to sedate him before he gets out and runs outside into the danger zone, and no matter how hard he fights they manage to pin him down and stick one of his veins. In thirty seconds, the world goes black.

He wakes to an oppressively silent calmness in his parents’ bed with his mother holding him. It feels wrong to be in his father’s place, and the space is empty behind him. Mom pets his hair as he cries, and he tries to pet hers too. It’s a little awkward, due to the cramped position they’re in and the fact that it’s pinned up into a bun. He tries to tell her comforting words but his throat is raw from screaming.

The mark of the needle heals. The scar of the crash doesn’t.

There’s a brief period of time where every shred of news might be good news, it might be news that someone had survived, but with each day the likelihood becomes lesser and lesser.

By the next week, in their decontaminated mail slot is an invitation to Kim Woomin’s funeral. No other names are listed, but an urn with Dad’s name on it is sent along afterwards. 

The world doesn’t understand, not with over a hundred years without a single rocket malfunction inside its atmosphere.

So the funeral is a dignified, widely broadcasted affair. From it stems a wave of new safety initiatives and campaigns. “We’ll never again allow the negligence that killed our beloved Kim Woomin,” the speaker says. Hongjoong hears it often in the years to come.

_ Negligence _ they always say. And it never “resulted in his death,” no, it  _ killed _ him. As if it was the team’s fault he was dead. Never with any mention of the fifteen people who likely asphyxiated alongside him.

Hongjoong never sees ground zero. They build the second Dome over it.

He has to admit IPF recovers well, throwing themselves back into their work with faster medical teams, hi-tech construction projects and groundbreaking new prototypes. Like salt in a wound, the annual Horizon Project team is announced on the first Chuseok day while Hongjoong and his mother listen to the announcement and eat in silence.

The image of a falling spaceship sticks in his head when he loads the studying materials. He decides to be a pilot anyway.

While the tram zooms toward the Dome for their final round, Hongjoong drops his head into his hands and rubs his face harshly out of stress before trying to be calm. Realising it was likely a mistake to have told him anything, he’s pointedly avoiding Seonghwa’s gaze now.

Wooyoung nudges him as they step off onto the platform that will raise them to the top of the Dome. They’re dropping in with parachutes this time.

“Hey, I don’t know what’s going on with you, but I need you to get your head in the game,” he’s pleading, jerking his head back so Hongjoong can see Junyoung clinging onto San for dear life. He’s still not over his fear of heights. “Look at them, they’re terrified.”

Hongjoong offers him a nod before going back to help the younger boy and says no more. Wooyoung can do nothing but sigh at the state of things and focus on the task at hand.

They have no idea what environment the Dome will be simulated into, but they’re dressed for both base jumping and diving, so Wooyoung can imagine.

A hole opens up in the roof for them to parachute down, a gust of wind emitting from it and fluttering their hair for a brief moment. It looks like it’s filled with water, like a mini-ocean with columns of land jutting out here and there.

“The Dome is approximately 300 metres or a thousand feet tall,” Mingi recites unprompted. “Team SJR is the only other Horizon team to have dropped in for a training round, thirteen years ago.”

“Did they all survive the jump?” Yunho asks him nervously, and Mingi nods. 

All ten of them relax marginally as they take their places around the hole and prepare to fly. It’s every man for himself until they get down to the dropzone and begin searching for flags. Their wristbands chime in unison with the prompt to begin, this time with no hints provided about what will be down there.

“One of the trainees drowned afterwards though,” Mingi continues in the breath before the plunge, and Wooyoung doesn’t have time to react because his feet have already left the glass.

Due to the height they’re dropping from, parachutes need to be opened within seconds of jumping off the roof ledge and, as flustered as he is, Wooyoung manages to deploy his just as an air current barrages into him from the right.

A cry of distress alerts him just before the jolt of his parachute becoming tangled with someone else’s. The wind has blown him into Jongho, and the collision throws both of them off their smooth glide, suddenly plummeting faster as neither chute can expand enough to catch them.

Their trajectory sends them toward a sea stack, but they come in too hot for a landing, making painful contact with the rough dirt and stone on a surface with barely enough space for them. There’s a split second to catch their breath lying there on the ground until the wind blows into them again and the conjoined parachutes fall behind them, dragging the pair back off the cliff by the weight of the entanglement. 

Both of them are yelling— half at each other and half at the wilted parachutes— but even as Wooyoung scrabbles at the ground, trying to catch a fist of grass, it doesn’t hold them and they slide off the edge, hurtling towards the waves.

“We have to work together!” He screams through the rush of the wind in Jongho’s general direction, frantically tugging at the line in an attempt to pull free.

“Just unclip the chutes so they don’t land on top of us!” Jongho yells back. “They’ll drag us under.”

Wooyoung is starting to understand how that unfortunate trainee drowned doing this stunt. 

He reaches out and grips Jongho’s hand for support and together they count down, releasing the parachutes just as their feet hit the water.

Everything is muted in the overwhelming sensation of the ocean closing in, and once his momentum has slowed enough, Wooyoung kicks his way back to the surface and swims for the land they just fell from. Jongho surfaces next to him and the two help each other onto the narrow beach, checking their remaining equipment first and then glancing around for any other members.

“My team’s over there,” Wooyoung sighs with relief when he spots San waving at him from a ledge halfway up a neighbouring sea stack, where the rest of Team A is discarding their parachutes. 

“I don’t know where mine is,” Jongho sighs, running a hand through his sopping wet hair. Wooyoung isn’t sure if this is where they separate.

“I think I saw some of them floating west of here,” Wooyoung offers, slinging his supplies onto his back hesitantly, but Jongho waves him on. 

“Go ahead, I’ll find them,” he encourages as he jogs away, rounding the stack in the direction Team Z most likely headed.

Resolved, Wooyoung turns to his own members. They have a flag to find.

___

Yunho can see Mingi swimming ahead of him, but struggles to catch up with his comparatively weaker breaststroke. If there’s one physical activity he struggles with, it’s swimming.

Lungs burning for relief, he perseveres in the general direction of the sea arch Z Team is headed towards. 

The distant rock grows closer and closer but just before he reaches it, Jongho pops up to his left and breaks his stroke.

Seeing Yunho begin to struggle, the younger boy supports him and gives an extra boost that gets them to land. 

“Where were you?” Yunho gasps, coughing up a bit of water and readjusting his things. 

Jongho shakes his head and grunts out a simple response. “I got a bit tangled up. Do we have a strategy?”

Seonghwa stands from where he’s neatly packing away his drop gear and preparing the dive equipment and scans the surrounding area.

“I’m willing to bet the flags are both underwater. There’s not many places they could be staked on these rocks. We should split up like last week and dive for them.” The sound of a boulder hitting the ocean echoes from somewhere and makes them all flinch.

“What if the sea stacks move while we’re down there, like an earthquake?” Yeosang interrupts with a nervous cough. “Rock formations don’t move by themselves do they?”

Everyone looks at Mingi, who huffs and places his hands on his hips. “Look, I’m not a geomorphologist here. I don’t think so, but this is the Dome, there’s always a chance.”

With that in mind, Jongho and Seonghwa go with Mingi, leaving Yunho and Yeosang to dive off the other side of the arch. “Don’t worry about it,” the medic tells him, placing his breather in his mouth and handing Yunho his. It’s a smaller mask than the ones they wear for noxious air protection, with a miniature compressed air system inside that can last them at least 3 hours before they need to surface. 

“Just breathe and signal with your wristband if you see anything.”

“Easier said than done,” Yunho gripes, but holding on to Yeosang, easily the best swimmer on the team, he feels confident enough to inhale deeply and take the plunge.

The murky underwater world is nothing like the pristine environments they used to show on the television. This place is dark and almost cold, at least a similar sensation to cold felt through their insulated wetsuits. Yunho has never been swimming in a real ocean, but he knows Yeosang has, and the urge to ask how similar this ghastly graveyard of floating, crumbled stone is to the real thing must be suppressed for the sake of the mission.

He switches on a flashlight with his free hand and it illuminates more barren rock and dead coral. It’s spooky in a way, and after about thirty minutes with no result Yunho is ready to get out before something sneaks up on him.

Yeosang shaking his arm to catch his attention makes him jolt with surprise and he follows the medic’s gaze to see what looks like a flag, fluttering sporadically like a meandering jellyfish in the simulated ocean current and staked into the sand at a slight angle.

Unsure if it’s theirs or Team A’s, they pick up the pace and begin to swim down towards it when a glitch interrupts their surroundings briefly and then the strange sound of draining water follows it.

All at once, the ocean is sinking around them and the plot of sand directly beneath rises to meet them, both boys clinging onto it as it lifts above the receding waves where the world is actively changing into something else.

Yunho pulls out his breather and gets to his feet shakily. “What is going on?” 

The holographic interior of the Dome is shifting from blue skies to black starry expanse and their surroundings take a new shape, the platform twisting around them until suddenly everything sets in place.

“Are we in... simulated outer space?”

“No time to question it, enemies incoming!” Yeosang gasps from behind, pushing him forward through what is now the hall of a JP class carrier. Stray blaster fire follows them and despite it all, Yunho begins to feel a little more at home.

They might actually win this.

___

Team A’s head start is completely blown by the sudden environment change. The plot of chalky white reef they’re searching becomes the bridge of a spaceship and an emergency message blinks at them from the main console.

_ Threat: Xeno 12 approaching. _

Xeno. The general term IPF uses to refer to any unidentified alien species.

“What?” Junyoung gasps as he wobbles to his feet, turning to peer out of the massive window spanning the control room. “Where?”

A screeching sound and a jolt throwing them off their feet answers his question before another member can.

“Seal off the hallway doors, they’re boarding in the passenger airlock,” Hongjoong orders from the pilot’s chair, where he already has the security feed up and running. 

“We don’t know what kind of weapons they have,” Wooyoung reminds him, drawing his own blaster and wiping the water off of it. “They could just drill right through.”

“Then we hold them for as long as we can while one of us finds the flags,” Hongjoong insists. “That’s still our objective.”

“How do we know the objective hasn’t changed?” Wooyoung argues back. “The entire arena did.” 

“Because this is still our final round, the simulation just happens to be shooting back this time,” Hongjoong straps himself in and takes in the faltering faces of his team. “Alright, any volunteers?”

San gives the control panel a once over before raising his hand. “I can take this shortcut to the engine room,” he presses a button on the screen and then motions to the holographic map that appears. “The rest of the ship is accessible from there in the event that you have to close off more doors.”

“I’ll go with you,” Youngseok chimes in, swiping his wristband over the console. “I’ve downloaded the schematics so I should be able to control which doors close while we’re down there.”

“If you see any sign of the other team, contact us immediately,” Hongjoong instructs as they open up the floor and drop down.

“10-4, Captain,” San exclaims cheekily before he disappears from view, giving a dramatic salute and closing the grate behind him.

“Buckle up,” Hongjoong warns the rest of them as another large enemy ship looms in front of them. “This isn’t going to be pretty.”

___

  
If San focuses on Youngseok’s presence, the imposing fear of walls closing in on him is held at bay a little longer.

“What were you and Junyoung up to this afternoon?” He asks as they pass yet another service grate with no sign of a flag, trying his best to make conversation between jolts of the ship navigating hostile space.

Despite their areas of study overlapping significantly, San hasn’t had much of an opportunity to get to know Youngseok or Junyoung. The two of them hit it off the same way he and Wooyoung did, only holing up with their holoscreen games instead of bonding over music and circuitry, and their simulator hours tend to coincide with the rest of the team’s class time, so bumping into each other in the halls is a rare occurrence. 

“Studying and playing Fusion Byeonhwa 6,” Youngseok grunts back, fanning himself when the air gets hot. They must be approaching the engines. “Well, Junyoung was studying.  _ I  _ was playing Fusion Byeonhwa. I’m trying to beat his high score since he keeps bragging about it.”

San can’t help but giggle at his apparent grudge. “You two fight over scores a lot?”

“Oh, no, not  _ fighting _ ,” the boy rushes to amend shyly. “He’s just much more assertive than me. And better at time management. And more practical.”

“Well, I for one love your idealism,” San compliments as he waits to let Youngseok remove the grate directly above them. “If you can beat him in Fusion Byeonhwa, we can beat Team Z in this Dome battle. We already made it this far.” 

The pair of them pull themselves up through the hole and quickly replace the grate, hiding behind a cluster of pipes and listening to the distant whir of machinery. 

“They’re drilling through!” Youngseok exclaims when the sounds grow closer, pulling up the footage on his wristband and remotely locking the next door between the control room and the invaders. 

“Then we had better hurry up and fi—”

San is cut off by the floor being wiped from underneath him, the ship suddenly banking to the right accompanied by the blast of a xeno spacecraft and the shudder of lasers finding their mark, the quivering of the hull throwing them off their feet. Youngseok manages to grab hold of the pipes they were hiding behind and San clings to him while the world turns sideways.

“What are you doing?” Youngseok yells into his comm, and Hongjoong’s voice responds succinctly, “Buying you time.”

San struggles to pull himself up with one arm and grab onto the pipes as well, scanning the area now below them. A large window stretches across the room through which the outside of the ship can be accessed for repairs.

“Youngseok…”

“Did he have to do a barrel roll? I mean we’re still in a simulator,” the younger boy is mumbling.

“Youngseok!  _ Look!” _ San raises his voice and points out the sliver of window underneath them. “A flag!”

The younger boy’s eyes widen and immediately scan the adjacent airlock. “It’s Team Z’s and we can’t shoot through the window… does that mean…?”

San smirks at him and drops to the floor as the ship rights itself, bracing for any more of Hongjoong’s acrobatic flying stunts.

“We’re going on a spacewalk.”

___

“There has to be a way to get inside the system and close some of these doors,” Seonghwa groans as he reloads his L-24 and dodges laser fire from yet another pod of alien drones chasing them through the halls.

“You’ve got the wrong team for that!” Jongho yells back, unloading his blaster at the enemies with perfect precision and reminding Seonghwa why he’s a gunner.

“I can try,” Mingi sighs, hooking his wristband to the console next to the circular doorway a bit down the hall. “But I can probably only control one door at a time with preliminary access status, so this is not ideal.”

“Where are they even coming from?” Jongho growls and is surprised to hear a reply in his comm link.

“The passenger airlock,” Yeosang pants, and it sounds like he’s running. “Yunho and I were just there. Where are you?”

“I think it’s a B deck hallway,” Seonghwa answers, glancing over his shoulder for any identifiers. “Looks like we’re coming up on the hyperdrive generator.” In his brief pause from firing, a drone gets closer and nearly clips him on the shoulder with a laser beam. “Any time now Mingi!” 

“I’ve got it! I've got it!” He exclaims and the door hisses, sliding shut and decapitating the drone closest to them. 

However, the next door down the hallway also shuts, closing the three of them in. Seconds later, Yunho and Yeosang appear on the other side, banging on it and yelling for Mingi to get it open.

“Wrong door!” Yunho tries to be heard. “Open this one and we can get to the generator room!”

Mingi groans and throws himself back into the work, fingers flying as he tries to undo his action. He’s successful in opening both doors, and while the five of them are at least together, the pursuing drones attack with renewed fervor, forcing them to retreat into the generator room.

A stray laser ricochets off the wall and gets Jongho in the back of his leg, sending him to the ground. “That’s a real laser,” he grits out through his teeth. “Not stun.”

Yeosang lets the others cover him while he gives Jongho something for the pain and glares up in Seonghwa’s direction. “Hyung, look. This is an intergalactic battle with an alien spaceship and I am currently wearing a wetsuit.”

“It’s true,” Jongho mutters with regret. “We aren’t prepared.”

“We aren’t  _ supposed  _ to be prepared,” Seonghwa counters. “This is the final level, of course they threw a wrench in things!” 

Before Yeosang or Jongho can get a word in edgewise, Yunho whoops as a drone powers down and collapses and then turns around to inform them. “There’s a weak spot in their core, you can hit it through the cracks in their armour. We can shoot them down!”

“But what’s the point?” Mingi sighs from next to him. “We still won’t have the flags.”

And he’s right. Fighting on two fronts is doubly exhausting, especially when the simulated enemies are firing real shots.

“No, but maybe you can keep them busy,” Seonghwa admits. “Yunho and Yeosang, come with me and we’ll see if there are any flags on this thing. Jongho can take down as many drones between here and there as he needs to, and Mingi, you can close the doors behind us if it comes to it. We’re just going to have to blast our way out.”

The decision is unanimous. With Jongho blazing a bright trail, sparks flying ahead of his deadly aim, the three searchers keep their eyes peeled for flags as they move in a group towards the front of the ship. It’s banking and swaying unsteadily all over the place so progress is slow, which gives Seonghwa the feeling someone is actually piloting, and he has an idea who. 

Yunho tosses Mingi a fire grenade that he hurls behind them before locking the door and moving on, bringing up the rear of the pack, a well-oiled flag-hunting machine.

“There!” Yeosang snaps, and he is the first of them to spot it; a flag bolted to the outside of the ship. It looks like their flag and there are already two opposing team members floating towards it in their spacesuits. “Hurry, they’re going to get to it first!”

Mingi and Jongho hold their positions and fend off the enemies attacking from behind, but Yunho’s cry alerts Seonghwa to the fact that more enemies are drilling through a doorway along the connecting hall. The door that leads to the bridge.

“Who’s outside?” Seonghwa asks Yeosang, who’s frantically searching for any other spacesuits lying around.

“San and Youngseok,” he answers. “I don’t know where the rest of their team is.”

But Seonghwa does.

They’re on the other side of that door, and in seconds a horde of drones is going to be on them. And they don’t know they’re about to be hit with real lasers.

“Leave them, we have to take out these drones.”

“What?”

“Are you serious?”

“You want to give up, just like that?”

The members break out into protest, but Yunho is quiet, already charging up another fire grenade to stop the drillers with. “He’s right,” he states simply, turning to the now quiet team. “We have to make a choice.”

He throws the grenade but the explosion isn’t enough to stop the door from being brought down, and in the smoke Seonghwa can see blasts being exchanged. Wooyoung and Junyoung defend Hongjoong where he sits in the pilot’s chair, desperately evading a swarm of enemy ships, full of more drones no doubt intending to overwhelm them.

There is no hesitation.

With his team at his back, Seonghwa abandons the competition and engages the true enemy head on.

The sound of drones powering down and being crushed under the approach of more drones fills his ears and in the rush of adrenaline he almost misses the notification to his wristband. Not until the aliens dissolve before his eyes does he look at the results of the match.

_ Team A has won the final round.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are coming up on 1 year with Horizon !!🎉 Seems strange to think I was planning all this out a year ago and a lot’s changed in the world but there is plenty ahead and many more plans to come to fruition. Did you catch the double meaning in this chapter’s title? It’s a bit of a difficult one, comment your answer and any other thoughts if you like! And stay tuned for the next chapter (the last in this section), I’ll try not to take too long of a break before updating ;)
> 
> Recommended Listening: Turn Back Time by WayV

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to Horizon!! I hope you'll stay for the ride :) Updates will be sporadic at first so be patient with me, but let me know what you think in the comments and feel free to reach out on twt/cc @tiny_tokki!


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